


Upon Dragon Wings

by Abby_Ebon



Category: Eragon (2006), Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abby_Ebon/pseuds/Abby_Ebon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Chaos Silk. MurtaghxEragon. Slash. When Saphira, the last female dragon comes of age to mate, only Thorn can answer her need. What then, would this mean for Eragon and Murtagh who must now share this bond, binding Rider and Dragon alike?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Throes…

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chaos_Silk (CrimsonChaos)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonChaos/gifts).



"Are you sure, then, that the Ra'zac hold Katrina in Helgrind?" Roran asked of his cousin, who seemed distracted. "Saphira is fairly sure, and she says that you're to quit worrying about it until Eragon looks like he's gotten some proper rest, and do you see what I mean – wha? Hey! Saphira!" Eragon looked very put-out as he pouted in the direction Saphira was held.

Roran's lips twitched in amusement as he bit back a smile for the sake of his cousin.

"Tell her I see her point and will be putting you to bed shortly." Eragon turned his pout on Roran, who – unable to hold it back anymore, laughed. For one so mighty, the 'Sladeslayer' was still only a sixteen year old boy.

Sometimes, seeing Eragon acting so mature and being given so many honors threw him, until something like this happened, and he remembered his cousin was still his cousin, and his best friend.

He thought then that if Saphira's intention had been to get him to cheer up, she had succeeded. He wondered why the dragon had bothered, and was surprised when he was answered.

 ** _You, Roran, be assured you are dear to my Little One, and he knows well what dangers there are in Helgrind and fears for Katrina – and your own happiness. If he can assure you somehow that she will be alright – even if it is costing him more energy then he can spend, he will do so. He cares very deeply for you._** Roran was thrown for a bit, but managed to thank her (or at least he hoped he had) and shook his head, his mind going back to Eragon.

His cousin did look warn, Roran was abashed that he had not noticed, there was something about finding your cousin on the back of a dragon – and fighting more fiercely with another Dragon and it's Rider then you had seen in all your life, that caused Roran not to see Eragon as _Eragon_ – but he was. It was the others who were having trouble seeing that now.

Roran truly did not know what to make of Saphira – only that she cared very much for Eragon, and seemed to know him better then Roran in some ways. He wasn't sure he liked that idea. Roran let Eragon stop pouting, and took him by the shoulder, guiding him to his rooms.

"Roran! You weren't serious, were you?" Eragon exclaimed, having noticed the direction.

"Oh yes, _Little One_ , you always keep your word to a dragon!" Roran told him quite seriously, much to Eragon's embarrassment (either to that or the nickname Roran had picked up from Saphira) – his cheeks flushed when they passed one a woman burdened with freshly made lace, she gave Eragon a speculative glance, and rushed on after glimpsing Roran's glare.

That was another thing Roran wasn't sure what to do about, women middle aged and in their twenties were giving his barely teenaged cousin looks of interest or open lust. In Roran's oh-so-humble opinion the Elfish-looks did not help Eragon, especially with his cousin so innocent to it.

In that, he could understand Arya's clear disinterest, it seemed to Roran that his cousin had mistaken a crush for 'love'.

"Don't you _dare_ use that endearment in front of the others!" Eragon hissed at him, keeping his voice low, his cheeks still flamingly red – the lack of a tan was not good for the fair skinned version of his cousin.

"Why? Afraid it'll catch on? Oh! What if _Arya_ starts to call you that – you know, that looks a fair impression of a cat-boy." Roran told him, staring at his snarling cousins features in curiosity. He had made sure to close the door behind him, perhaps that hadn't been the best idea.

"I do something awful to you if you do!" Eragon warning, brown eyes flashing – Roran almost took a step back to cower – but his back straitened, he would not be turned timid by a fifteen year old, and his best friend at that!

"Like what, _Little One_? Give me _your_ bad breath?" Roran teased, and Eragon snarled wordlessly as he turned to his bed and jumped on it – his face buried in his pillow as he screeched into it.

Roran decided to spare him from further teasing and settled on his own bed. As the place was so packed they'd had to share. Roran, his eyes closed, unmoved by his cousin's silent rebellion, listened as Eragon prepared for bed.

Roran had decided that Eragon was likely playing the silent treatment, and found himself amused, if in a heartsick way – Eragon had barely spoken to him as he had prepared to go to Therinsfold to work as a millers assistant, to earn the money to get a house build for Katrina. Not to mention pay for a wedding.

Roran pushed away those regrets, and listening to Eragon's breathing, fell into sleep.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

_Murtagh hovered above him, eyes looking into Eragon's own. At the look in the other Dragon Riders eyes, Eragon's breath caught in his throat. Murtagh leaned over him, lapping at his throat – sucking and nibbling along his most venerable and sensitive neck._

_Eragon moved, and shivered, his skin flaring with the rest of his senses, helplessly, he moaned, caught up in his need and senses, with them, he felt Murtagh's lips curve, pleased, against his neck._

_Murtagh rose onto his forearms to look down at Eragon, his pale, unblemished body, glistened with sweat – as he alternately fought – when he was frozen stiff, disbelieving, looking up at Murtagh like a kicked puppy, with those deer-brown eyes._

_Murtagh loved it most when Eragon gave in – when he was needy, whimpering and begging for touch, pressing against him, willing and caught up in Saphira's draconic desire._

_Murtagh saw with pleasure that Eragon's wild brown hair had grown, brushing his shoulders, and fanning out onto the pillows bellow. Eragon's plump lips were caught between his teeth, swollen and ripe from kissing._

_Murtagh saw then, what Thorn did; Saphira's final act – the mating flight, she had escaped Thorn until now – even as her body fought with her to give in. Saphira knew that Eragon was entrenched into her emotions as deeply as she was his – it was a bond Murtagh longed for, but Thorn could not give him._

_Saphira knew that if she gave in to Thorn's advances, Eragon would collapse into the feelings as well, and bond-mate with Murtagh; as her body to do with Thorn – and he would eventually mate – and be bonded with Thorn, and Eragon would as well, with Murtagh._

_So, Saphira flew, she flew into the sky with reckless abandon, and Thorn mere seconds from catching her, it was breath taking as he watched trough Thorn's eyes as Saphira dove and spin away from him._

_She was throwing all the spirit she had into the flight of her body – driving the desires or draconic mating momentarily to the back of her mind – and her Riders._

_Eragon, beneath Murtagh, shook off some of his lust – and Murtagh, desperate as Thorn to catch Saphira, acted unthinkingly for the first time since his youth – his lips and tongue descending upon and pushing into his younger brother's warm mouth, just as Thorn locked talons with Saphira – their wings outstretched as they fell to earth, mated._

_Eragon – unknowingly echoing Saphira, embraced Murtagh, his arms and legs wrapping around the other Rider as he moved wantonly against Murtagh, and Murtagh kissed the side of his brothers jaw, and pushed his hips and hard length against Eragon's buttocks, parting them, and pushing up into -…_

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Murtagh woke involuntarily, aching and painfully hard, his eyes trailing down to his torso and a small groan – of pleasure and mixed annoyance, echoed from his lips.

 ** _About time you woke up,_** ** _Galbatorix is calling for you._** Talon told him dryly, gaining twisted amusement from his Rider's plight.

 ** _Thank you_** , Murtagh answered mentally, drawing away from the connection when he felt the dragons' keen disgust with him – physically, he was pulling away from the now clingy damp sheets.

Sitting on the edge of his great bed, he chanced a hopeful – but fruitless glance behind him, somehow hoping that the Eragon from his dream – _fantasy_? Would be there, in his bed - looking up at him with lustful deer brown eyes - Eragon, of course, wasn't.

Empty as they were, the bed sheets sent a sorrowful prang through his chest, strong enough to will away his erection.

His tanned body – nude under the moonlight, curved and twisted as he pulled on his pants – and a vest, not bothering with a shirt. He did loop Zar'roc through the belt on his pants though.

The blade itself disgusted him, but it was a link to Eragon, and he would not throw it away. It was a symbol of how Eragon saw him. A misery in his life – it was, at least, _something_ – an acknowledgement of the ties between them.

Murtagh's jaw clenched – his hands clenching and unclenching in his mood – tossing it away from him as he strode down the hall to the entrance of Galbatorix's chambers.

"Enter, Murtagh son of Morzan." Murtagh paused long enough to bow at the appropriate distance – and then stood, facing Galbatorix, King of Alagaësia, Dragon Rider – and bane of Murtagh's existence.

"There is something you should be made aware of; I had almost forgotten it after all these long years. You might have noticed having dreams of Eragon, or of Thorn taking Saphira in a flight. This is, in a way, prophesy – for the Dragon's Dance approaches. It is a seasonal event, brought on by a female dragon coming of age to mate. All male Dragon Riders and Dragons feel her call." Galbatorix told him, his tone lofty and high, as if speaking to an insolent child.

Murtagh ignored this, and suppressed the urge to be sickened at the thought of Galbatorix having erotic dreams about _his_ brother.

"This will end when she chooses a mate to bond with," Galbatorix continued, starting to pace the floor, an old habit Murtagh had learned long ago to pick up on, "you are to go out with Thorn and look for her. Someone among them has likely discovered what is happening with her – or she has told them herself, and as you are the only one with a male dragon compatible with her, they would be in hiding from you." He finished, and Murtagh prepared himself for his true orders.

"Your orders, Murtagh son of Morzan, are to take Thorn, find Saphira, have Thorn mate with her, and to return with both Saphira and Eragon, this is the end of your orders." Galbatorix told him in a sweet voice and Murtagh felt a helplessness hover over him, for, this time, there was no loop hole.

Murtagh swallowed down the feeling of bile rising in his throat, and bowed to Galbatorix, biting his tongue, least Galbatorix add something to those orders.

"I will do as you will, my King." Murtagh echoed, and stood, swiftly leaving – walking backwards as he left the hall, his gaze to the floor.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

 ** _So, the beaten puppy returns. What does he want now?_** Thorn asked as Murtagh made him ready to ride.

"What else would he want but for us to find Saphira and Eragon?" Murtagh told him shortly – and aloud, so a passing stable boy gave him a startled look. Murtagh ignored it – he felt more comfortable conversing with Thorn by speech so not to feel his dragon's manner toward him.

It wasn't that Murtagh blamed Thorn for feeling so disgusted by him, he did serve a more powerful 'master', and he was enslaved by his own foolishness.

He had asked when Thorn was just hatched what his own true name was – and Thorn had told him and the Twins – those blighted evil Twins, had _took_ it from him. Now, his own true-name was used against him, and he, in turn, could not use it to free himself.

Thorn despised him for being so weak, and Murtagh could not find it within himself to change his dragon's opinion of him.

 ** _Then let's go_**. Thorn urged him, and Murtagh allowed himself the chance – to feel his dragon's pleasure in flying – with or without Murtagh. It the one positive thing Thorn linked to him, for Thorn wasn't allowed to fly without Murtagh.

Murtagh leaned over Thorn's shoulder, looking down at the passing country side. It all seemed so small – their troubles, worry, even the very land Galbatorix controlled.

It would be a half-day flight to the border between Alagaësia and Surda, and less then that to cross the mass of destruction of the Burning Plains. It had been less then three days since the battle – and he had decided that he would have to go beyond the Empire's land – if along the coast to King Orrin's main city.

The plan, in Murtagh's mind, was to lure Eragon away - to the islands off the coast of Alagaësia.


	2. Enraptured…

_Eragon lay nestled between his brothers thighs – his cheek pressed against_ _Murtagh's inner thigh, his tongue darted out – teasingly licking the length that bobbed in front of his face._

_Murtagh's breath caught in his throat, as his fingers ran through his younger brother's hair. Feeling the rough edges of his brothers nails running along his scalp, sent pleasant shivers down Eragon's spine._

_Murtagh chuckled softly, the sound echoing through the whole of his body, and Eragon whimpered softly, shifting his weight on the bedding. Murtagh's eyes greedily took in the younger of the two brothers – Eragon indeed lay sprawled between his legs._

_Eragon's own legs spread in turn, showing off the dusky line of hair that went from navel to groin, and the obvious signs of his arousal, comfortably at ease in a way the real Eragon would never be with the two of them so exposed to each other._

_Murtagh's fingers – caught in the thick strands of Eragon's hair, tightened and forcefully pulled his head back, exposing the soft tissues and tendons of his throat._ _Eragon stared up at him, dark eyes thick with desire and anticipation of what was to coming – knowing as Murtagh did, what was going to happen._

_Murtagh's other hand had trailed down the length of Eragon's torso - causing the younger of the two brothers to gasp as his brother's hand moved against his over sensitive skin._

_Eragon reached for his shoulders, pushing himself atop his elder brother – moaning softly in Murtagh's ear as fingers probed at his entrance._

_"Please, brother…"_

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

With a hushed gasp, Eragon awoke – to…to the _night_? – his skin, sweaty and hot all over, had clung to the sheets, and he found himself desperately – painfully - aroused. His heart ached – how _could_ he have had…had a dream _like that_ – about _Murtagh_ – a _traitor_!

Eragon turned slightly, rolling onto his back, and looking to the side – Roran was, luckily, gone. He could not imagine having Roran awake to his moans and pleas – and to – to wake him and ask him what the 'nightmare' had been! It would have been _mortifying_ …Eragon buried the side his face into the soft cotton of his pillow, sighing into it.

He shifted his weight, glancing down the length of his body and wishing **_it_** would just…just go away.

 ** _It_ ** didn't though, seeming to mock him – the image of Murtagh, nude – if bent away as he washed in a river. Eragon having seen something like this shortly after Brom's death, thought it made it all the more real, but _surely_ Murtagh had not looked at him with such lust, nor licked his lips in desire.

Heat flooded his body, and he found his hand trailing between his half parted thighs, hissing as his hand eased between the restricting cloth of his trousers and the oh-so-sensitive skin of his groin.

Murtagh went to him, walking over the river rocks, smoothed by time – and save for a short but aching distance, there seemed to be nothing between Eragon and his elder brother's dark eyes and tan skin.

Rough and dominating, Murtagh gripped his arms and pulled him closer – trapping Eragon's body against his brothers.

Eragon found his did not mind – his knees weakening as Murtagh squeezed the soft globes of his ass – kissing him roughly – teeth and tongue battling, and Eragon could have sworn he'd tasted blood.

Eragon was panting, rubbing franticly at himself – one hand clenching into the bedding, even as his hips bucked up, wishing for the contact he imagined; that of his brother stroking his most intimate of places – his manhood – his entrance, and where buttocks met thigh.

Eragon bit his lip wanting to cry out – to plead for his brother to go farther then those faint touches – but fearing the consequences of what others would think or say if they heard him. Even if knowing too, that this was just an excuse - his desires warring with his disgust with himself.

For, surely, Murtagh would finish anything he intended to start with Eragon. At that thought – he came, hot spurts coating the insides of his pants – his hand coming away wet, it made what he ad just did all the more noticeable.

Eragon's cheeks flushed with the images still playing in his mind – he was half sure that they – and his reaction, had been all been the work of an agent of Galbatorix…just to keep him off balance and wondering at his own sanity.

 ** _It was but you own mind, Little One_** …Saphira reassured him from the depths of their bond – now for the first time, Eragon found it somewhat awkward to be linked in such a way to Saphira.

Not that he would trade Saphira for anything – it was just…embarrassing, like having Brom – Arya, or even _Katrina_ try to explain sex to him.

He _knew_ what it was – having seen the animals, well, do that – he just hadn't known it had a name – and true, he hadn't quite fitted out how it would be done between two people – but that didn't mean he was _naive_.

"Why?" He asked himself – and Saphira, if she would answer – why, oh, _why_ had he dreamed of doing _that_ with Murtagh – why had it affected him to such an extent? Eragon sat up, washing his hands in the basin – then taking of his trousers as he listened to his dragon's thoughts to him through their bond.

 ** _Oh, Little One…I am sorry, I fear my very nature is to blame. I am, after all, the last female of my kind_**. Saphira began, and if she had been face-to-muzzle with him, she would have seen Eragon raise an eyebrow at the obviousness of her statement.

 _What does this have to do with Murtagh_? Eragon demanded, seeking still an answer for his dream, even as he pulled on a new pair of pants – and a new shirt, just to make sure no one smelt anything strange when he went to breakfast.

 ** _When a female dragon, such as my self, reaches sexual maturity, it signals the beginning of the Dragon's Dance – as the first Riders called the mating flight of my gender. It's a call – unheard by humans, that sings in the blood of the nearby male dragons_**. Saphira explained to him, and Eragon looked to the window wonderingly – if Thorn, and Galbatorix's Shruikan – or Oromis' Glaedr would answer such a call.

 ** _Glaedr is too old, and Galbatorix would not allow Shruikan to go – he prizes his kept dragon too much_**. Saphira assured him, and Eragon allowed himself to have some peace with that truth. Too soon though, his heart leapt in his throat – realizing Saphira had not said anything against Thorn - his dragon seemed to realize his alarm.

 ** _I'm sorry_**. Saphira echoed her earlier sentiments, and Eragon's eyes widened with alarm and denial.

 _Is he not too young for you_? Eragon asked of her, rather despite for the answer.

 ** _No – male dragons sexually mature in less then a year after hatching_**. Saphira told him, and Eragon shook his head in denial, even though he was far away from her – locked away in his room.

 _What of Murtagh and me_? Eragon managed not to choke as he sent the thought to her, even as he felt sorrow build in his chest – could it be possible Arya had had a good reason for not wanting to get involved with him?

A reason no one had bothered to tell him about?

 ** _Do you not see Little One? Because of the Dragon's Dance, Thorn and I will most certainly be mated – and though our bond, your body would echo mine – and Murtagh, my dear, would be quick to take advantage, if only to please_** ** _Galbatorix. He would nonetheless henceforth share our bond_**. Saphira finished her explanations, and Eragon shook his head, even as he could no more deny the echoing truth to her thoughts, then to deny she was his dragon.

 _Is there no running from them?_ _No escape_ _at all?_ Eragon asked of her, fearing the answer as Saphira seemed to sigh through the link, understanding his reluctance to bend to what she had already accepted.

 ** _We could run, Little One, but he would be relentless in his pursuit – and he would have no mercy in catching us. If he comes to us – and I fly with him, and he proves unworthy, then – there is that chance_**. Saphira allowed, and it was one Eragon found him self clinging to, even as he drifted back into a fitful sleep.

Eragon awoke to the screams of those around him, startled awake – his mind stretched instinctively to Saphira's seeking answers to questions his mind had not yet formed.

It proved a fruitless gesture – for no sooner had Saphira cautioned him had he seen the burst of fire in the horizon – and the red dot of a dragon; **_Thorn has arrived_**. Saphira echoed his thoughts – her tone both interested and not.

 _What of Murtagh?_ Eragon asked her, hoping that the other Rider had not had a chance to mount his dragon before the Dragon's Dance had taken a hold of him.

 ** _He is with Thorn_**. Saphira admitted almost sadly for her Riders sake, yet she could not contain her hope that she would no longer be alone – and Eragon found he could not spite her for it.

"Eragon - !" Roran yelled as he burst into the room, likely expecting to find the younger boy gone – instead he found Eragon gazing out his window locked in mental communication with his dragon.

"Eragon?" Roran echoed more softly as he approached his cousin, heeled boots clicked on the wooden floor – alerting Eragon to his presence. Eragon turned to him, unsurprised at his appearance, so Roran took it to heart his brother was not ill.

"Murtagh is here," Eragon told him, rising from his bed, speaking as if Roran wouldn't understand, and then he said something that made Roran's insides go cold for his tone alone, "if you get the chance – ask Arya about the Dragon's Dance." Eragon did not give him a backward glance as he left.

He wanted desperately to reassure Eragon, to tell him whatever it was that plagued Eragon couldn't be as bad as he made it out to be. Roran found no words, even as he followed Eragon wordlessly to Saphira's enclosure and watched him set off to the gate.

Roran followed still, even as –above them, like fate circling and dancing above – calling his cousin and his dragon out, was Thorn - and Murtagh – who was, to Roran, worth nothing for hurting Eragon – even if his cousin had confessed to trusting Murtagh with his life once.

Years later, he would confess to finding the sight of Saphira and Thorn flying in accord – Eragon having supposedly convinced Murtagh to fight away from the city – away from him.

Between one heartbeat and a breath, he had surely thought then that _something_ had to have changed or shifted, just in that moment between times – with the realization that Eragon meant to sacrifice himself in some way that Roran did not – or could not, understand.


	3. Ascending…

_What is he doing_? Eragon asked of Saphira half-heartedly; it wasn't as if he expected her to have an insight to Murtagh's mind – but she might know something of what was going on in Thorn's – as both were dragons.

Then again – that would be very much like Saphira expecting him to know what was going on in another mans mind.

 _ **They are headed to the islands just off the coast – I assume because it would be ironic to fight there**_. Saphira answered, tilting her wings foreword to change a wind current.

It was something of a wonder to Eragon, how she just _knew_ which winds would take them in the right direction – and how they would react to each other. He half wished she had the same ability in regards to the future.

 _Why ironic, Saphira_? He asked her instead – she hummed softly in thought – the soft tone trembling through her neck and though his body; he knew without asking that, like he was – she kept close watch on Thorn.

 _ **Galbatorix**_ _ **believes Thorn and Murtagh to be a part of his order of Riders and Dragons – he thinks of you as the last remnant of the old order.**_ Saphira confessed, and Eragon said nothing as they flew over the sea, considering Saphira's thoughts – while mentally preparing to battle Thorn and Murtagh.

Eragon found he was only mildly surprised that Thorn had chosen to land on the island – letting Saphira appear to have the advantage of air, though Eragon knew if Thorn roared out a fireball – Saphira would be hard pressed to miss it.

The air currents were wild, and Eragon wondered if it was only the fact that Saphira's was older that kept them aloft, while Thorn, the younger of the two dragons, had chosen to land.

Despite his determination to keep only Murtagh and Thorn in his thoughts and sight, he found himself distracted by the ancient ruins that surrounded them. The ruins had clearly been made with dragons in mind at all times – and despite times heavy hand – they had survived very well indeed.

Around him hummed the presence – or the very essence of magic, and Eragon felt enthralled by it.

For a moment, something puzzled him - the stone structures surrounding them showed no signs of being touched by tools, within a moment, Eragon had puzzled out _how_. What must have been ages ago - Riders had, using their magic, pulled the stone up from the very bowels of the earth.

They had crafted it by their force of will and their despite need alone, with only paper plans to guild them.

They likely had gathered here to do it all at once; Eragon thought he knew what would drive them to do such a thing – dragons had, from their early beginnings, thought to be only beasts. Riders had sought out a place, solitary from those ignorant of a dragon's true nature, where everyone would know differently.

That it had survived and stood for so long without either Rider or dragon to protect it, that it had not withered away or fell, was a great testimony to the Riders – and their dragons. Eragon wished he had time to look about the ruins more closely, he wondered if he could find written documents here – and if he did – what would they say?

Eragon wondered if Murtagh felt this too – this need to find out the origins of the other Riders, their stories, and those of their dragons.

" _Eragon_ ," Murtagh spoke, for his lips moved – but it was his voice in Eragon's mind, that of the soft touch of velvet on skin, that echoed in Eragon's very core, " _Galbatorix has ordered I have Thorn mate with Saphira – and then take the both of you back to him_ " Murtagh told him, both aloud and in his mind, Eragon felt a little hope dim.

 _ **I promise you, Little One, I will not let that happen**_. Saphira spoke sharply, having heard Murtagh's words and intentions.

 _ **Like you**_ _**can stop this from happening, you're as**_ _bad as Murtagh._ The rolling thunder of Thorn's voice passed through Eragon's mind like a storm – even though it was directed at Saphira, whose teeth flashed in her annoyance.

 _ **At least we are trying and have not given up all hope. Besides – if you are dead, Murtagh will have no way to cross the ocean**_. Saphira purred back, Saphira did not try to sound so dangerous – Thorn knew she was.

Eragon couldn't help but compare her voice to Thorn's, hers was how he imagined one of the great jungle cats the books in Teirm had hinted at, if they could speak, a low purr – deadly as the grave.

Thorn's tail lashed back and forth, the snow white spikes along his neck and spine swaying slightly with his movement.

He made no motion to threaten Saphira – though he was clearly upset – Murtagh slid off his back, Thorn, following something Murtagh had likely mind spoken to him about, leapt up into the air and flew some distance away.

" _So, we have until they mate to find some way of getting rid of his hold on you_." Eragon reasoned aloud, using the same trick Murtagh had to let his voice into Murtagh's mind, having seen that Murtagh had purposely let any thought of a fight between Saphira and Thorn fall away.

Eragon saw Murtagh's slow nod of agreement, and Saphira landed gracefully beside him, letting Eragon to the ground. Eragon looked up from his crouch, and for the first time since the Battle of the Burning Plains, he met Murtagh's eyes.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Katrina sat huddled in the shadows, and even if there was a cot, she preferred to sit as far away from _them_ as she could get. _Them_ , they called themselves the Ra'zac, or so they claimed to be.

She was doubtful – for if they were the Ra'zac, they also claimed to be in their fortress city, Helgrind. This, she knew - was very far away from the Spine, her home, her father – who might, or might not still be alive, and her Ronan – her beloved.

So, she sat on the stone floor in the corner of her cage; it was three lengths of her body across, and two lengths from front to back – yet it was still a place she did not _want_ to be – and thus a cage.

Every once in a while, a Ra'zac – grim and dirty, would pass the bars. In a way – Katrina found herself thankful for the bars – just as they kept her in – they kept _them_ out.

As if her thoughts had summoned one – a Ra'zac stood suddenly in front of her cage.

"You know, Eragon?" It questioned, a low hiss to its tone, but she knew it was pronouncing its words carefully.

Her nails – grimy and dirt encrusted, dug into her skin, and she loathed to answer him, her – it. Jerkily, she nodded, keeping her silence – there must be more then one Eragon in all the land – surely.

" _Good_." It purred, chuckling softly, Katrina narrowed her eyes, not daring to look away.

"The King has ordered you kept here, because of your Eragon." Her heart thudded in her chest – surely, _surely_ , they kept telling her these lies just to gain some twisted amusement in it. Day after day – it was the same game with _them_.

"He also says, now," the Ra'zac clicked softly, listening to nothing, "that you are to touch this stone. Pretty – _pretty_ – emerald. You will – _yes_?" It hissed, and she could tell – even from the shadowed corner of her cage, that it _hated_ her – that it wanted her dead.

For the first few months – it had been questions about Eragon, what she knew of him – who he loved.

They hadn't gotten anything useful from her, she had rambled like a drunken fool – about what clothes she liked - what colors she found pretty, and even what she had once dreamed up of a 'normal' life with Roran would be like. About anything, _b_ _ut_ what they wanted to hear.

They would have killed her for that alone – but something else, some outside and unseen force – perhaps the King? – kept them from touching her. That didn't stop them from terrifying her – they rejoiced in it, keeping her up all night with noises she did not want to know the origins of.

She was still fed once a day, allowed a bath – if with their leering eyes on her, once a week – allowed 'cleaned' clothing after a bath, all the same – she _hated_ them.

So, the first few days they had asked her to touch the stone – she had thought it another sick change in her normal routine. She had ignored them, not speaking, until the Ra'zac had left in disgust.

This time though – she had thought all night of that little green stone, how it called to her – as if it asked her to take it from this place, as if it too was a prisoner here.

When Eragon had showed her father his sapphire stone - she had been there, she had thought it lovely – but the little emerald the Ra'zac kept showing her – kept asking her to touch, it was special – somehow, she just _knew_ it.

So, for the first time, she nodded – agreeing to touch the emerald. The Ra'zac grinned – wide, the sight of its mouth sending shivers down her spine.

Loftily, it kneeled, and sent the green stone tumbling over the stone floor, the clear – pure, note was alike jewels dancing as it crossed to her side, tapping gently against her shin. As if to say – _I am here, you are safe_.

Katrina felt her stomach clench, a tight – cold feeling gripped her heart, trapping her tears – as she had trained herself. She would not let the Ra'zac see her cry.

Gently, almost lovingly - she found herself stroking the little emerald with her finger, it warmed pleasingly to her touch.

It shivered, all on its own – something, Katrina suddenly knew, was moving within it.

All at once, it glowed from within – the light shinning through the shell, lighting the shadows in the cage with warm green light. For the first time in a long time, she felt comforted – loved.

Then the egg – for that was the only answer to what the little emerald truly was, broke in half. A tiny head – serpentine and cat like, peered up at her – with wide green eyes it surveyed her - and the cage – expectantly, it turned back to her, as if to demand an explanation.

It mewled softly, as if to reinforce her impression – in awe of the little being that had suddenly appeared in her domain; Katrina brought her hand foreword so the little dragon – for that was _surely_ what it was – could sniff her fingers.

Wary – very careful of her, it leaned its head down – its lips pulled back, showing off a row of sharp teeth, and a forked tongue flicked at the air around them, as if to sense her intent.

Its nostrils flared - inhaling her scent, and it let itself – as if a royal being – be caressed, a soft – if surprised, purr echoing from its chest – filling the cage with its show of pleasure and approval of her.

All of a sudden Katrina felt her world tilt – lights of every color alighting behind her eyes – power itself seemed to course throughout her body. She slumped against the wall, the little dragon turned to glare at the Ra'zac – hissing softly, its wings spreading in an effort to appear threatening.

The Ra'zac hissed back – but left swiftly, to report to the King that the egg had, indeed, hatched for the girl.

Unknown to Katrina – a silvery scar had appeared on her palm. Comfortingly, the small green body of the dragon curled around the girl's legs, the insistent sound of its purring echoing in the cage.


	4. Pinnacle…

Murtagh hadn't been prepared to meet his brother face to face – or rather eye to eye. Eragon had… _changed_. He was no longer the rough around the edges kid – naive and too nice for his own good. Even in battle, Murtagh hadn't allowed himself to focus too much on what he was doing – what he hadn't wanted to do.

Meeting Eragon eye-to-eye was something he couldn't avoid now. Eragon looked like an elf. An elf that had been through hell while trying to look like a human – but, something within Eragon had rejected the _human_ feelings and thoughts, merely allowing him – like some great ironic cosmic joke, to meld the two in appearance.

It didn't seem to matter that Eragon had been _born_ human – something had changed, and he just could not – even with the aid of his magic – "shape" himself to be human again.

That's what it felt like to look in Eragon's eyes – Murtagh was at once overwhelmed and awed by the change. Some twisted part of him knew it would rejoice in taking this new Eragon's innocence – _having Eragon moaning and whimpering under him, Eragon's body moving – trying to get away and closer at once – beneath him_ – Murtagh let out a shaky breath – he had known he wanted Eragon - regardless that it was his brother – his _younger_ brother – he was seeing and lusting for.

Eragon, seeming even more innocent and untouched by Murtagh's feelings and thoughts - bit into his pouting bottom lip. Murtagh swallowed – his throat had gone as dry as a wasteland, this – merely _seeing_ Eragon again - was too much for him – feeling oddly guilty, he looked away.

When he looked up again, Eragon had looked away – he was staring at the entrance to the ruins. Feeling somewhat cheated, Murtagh made his way into them – for a moment he spared the thought that Eragon might enjoy the view – then pushed it away, trying to remember the ancient language. Or the two of them – Eragon was the better at it, even if Murtagh knew more powerful – more _dangerous_ – words of power.

"So we are looking for a way to change your true name?" Murtagh heard Eragon's voice from behind him – it seemed faint – as if Eragon's mind was on something else even as he spoke.

"Or something like that," Murtagh spoke, his skin tingling – feeling the ancient magic that lay on the place – that had formed it from the very bones of the earth, "do you see anything to indicate a records hall – or library? They must have kept something – this couldn't be the only case of a true name falling into the wrong hands." Even as Murtagh said that he knew his voice was thick with the fear that he was wrong.

"Then we ought to head to the center of the ruins." Eragon murmured, remembering his time in Teirm and that the records had been kept from daylight, either in the basement (and somehow the thought of this place holding underground quarters was _wrong_ ) or far enough in the center of the building that no direct light touched it. With the Riders, he felt this would have been the case – and as Riders had magic, he knew they would have used something with less possible danger to the materials then fire.

Murtagh merely grunted his agreement. Eragon though was studying the passageways – they were huge, big enough that a dragon could fit – even one as big as Glaedr.

The passageway grew dim, and in the shadows Eragon could make out sinister shapes – statues of men, elves, and dragons – out of the corner of his eyes, every now and then – it looked as if those ancient shapes were watching them – judging the new Riders who passed through the echoing hall.

Eragon swallowed, uncomfortable with the feeling – Saphira's lust still echoed in the very marrow of his bones – but the weight of the shadows eyes seemed more pressing. It was dark enough that Eragon did not see Murtagh stop, and instead ran into him – Murtagh grunted in what Eragon perceived to be annoyance and Eragon was quick to move away from the bigger male.

"Could we, _please_ , get some light?" Murtagh's voice was husky in the dark, thick with things Eragon dared not linger on. It was clear to him that though Saphira's lust had faded with his feelings within the pressing darkness – Thorn's need for Saphira wasn't waning.

"Galbatorix never taught you any?" Eragon asked Murtagh – or the darker-then-shadowed-form he hoped was Murtagh. It would be embarrassing if he was accidentally speaking to a statue. Eragon heard the other male snort – and nearly jumped, the noise echoed all about them.

"Galbatorix only saw fit to teach me battle magic – _useful_ , he called it." Murtagh's tone was rightfully biter – and Eragon had to stop himself from apologizing, again – for thinking Murtagh dead after the battle…

"Oh." Eragon whispered instead, then - remembering a spell Durza had spoken to create light, or rather – hurtled light at him – but he hoped if used as he wanted it, it would just create light, Eragon remembered it carefully going over it in his mind until he had it perfectly, then setting the palm of his hand in front of his face – cupping his hands around his lips, he imitated it.

"Garjzla…" Eragon had imagined a globe of light, as if held in glass – in the palm of his hand. He was pleased to see, that after the light seemed to spill from his lips, the magic had decided to obey his _need_ rather then throw lighting bolts into the dark.

Over Murtagh's shoulder the opening of a chamber, shadowed and huge - Eragon could not – even with the aid of light – see the ceiling of it. But what he could see astounded him – stone bookcases towered above them – as far apart from each other as the passageways. The record hall - for that was surely what it was – seemed to stretch for miles in both directions – Eragon could barely see another passageway on the other side of the record hall. Eragon heard Murtagh groan. He sympathized – this looked as if it might take _forever_ to search.

Certainly more time then Saphira had.

\--

Saphira paced, her claws digging into the soft earth and sand of the island. It was growing dark out – for the flight of the sea had stolen most of the daylight. Something within her burned – an ancient instinct – one she knew that no amount of reasoning or willpower would suppress it.

She suddenly smelled _him_ – flying loftily above her, just to be near when she would allow – tempting her - Saphira snarled, her lip curling against her impressive teeth.

She looked up to see him – his wings were locked in the gliding possession. They framed him – made him look bigger – more impressive. His wings were not all one color of bloody red – no, they were – if she were perfectly truthful lovely to behold. With her advanced sight she could see that in the center of every scale there was the soft red of a rose – the edges of his wings and scales were framed in ruby.

His coloring itself spoke to her – telling her of his health – of his temperament (he was loyal, oh yes, but he was quick to anger – never the less, she was sure he would be a pleasing lover) but mostly – is body language told her she would not escape him.

Even if she had wanted to – but, she knew, it would be more worthy to have him prove he could be her equal.

\--

"How are we going to sort through all this before Thorn…?" Murtagh trailed off – neither of them had forgotten their dreams – and both of them felt very much aware of the other – alike to a great ticking clock, readying itself to spring to life once it was time.

Eragon heard the metal heel of Murtagh's boots clink against the polished stone floor – it echoed around them. Murtagh was walking towards him. Eragon felt his breath halt in his throat, as his groin stirred then stiffened. He felt Murtagh's warm breath against his neck, and Eragon shut his eyes – telling himself he was imagining it. The Murtagh wouldn't willingly do this to him. It was just the Dragon's Dance.

"Breath, Eragon." Murtagh commanded him- his tone otherwise teasing and husky, his lips whisper soft against the shell of Eragon's ear. Eragon inhaled sharply, shakily, his frame tense at finding Murtagh so close.

"What are you doing?" Eragon hissed, glancing at his brother out of the corner of his eye. He saw Murtagh's lips tilt in an almost smile.

"Your ears are even pointed…just like an elfs." Then – almost impulsively (though Eragon knew Murtagh did nothing without a reason or plan) Murtagh kissed his neck. It was just a press of warm – if rough lips at first, then Eragon felt his elder brother's mouth open, his tongue boldly darting out to lick and suck at his sensitive neck.

Murtagh inhaled sharply, seeming to come back to his senses - just as quickly as this – whatever this was – had started for Eragon…it stopped. Eragon felt himself oddly regretful hearing Murtagh step away.

"Sorry." Murtagh's voice was rough – and when Eragon looked at him, Murtagh wasn't looking at him- he was very purposefully looking away – his jaws gritted together, and his hands were clenched at his sides. Eragon felt his heart flutter – wondering if Murtagh regretted doing that just now – or hated him for what was happening. It was – Eragon supposed in an adverse way – his fault. If he had never found Saphira – Saphira would have never come of age, and Eragon would have lived his life without knowing Murtagh. Eragon swallowed thickly, feeling as if something unpleasant had been lodged in his throat.

"It's fine." Eragon mumbled, looking away as if he had been caught.

"Are there words that could help us?" Murtagh asked suddenly – and it was clear to Eragon that _Murtagh_ at least had been thinking of something to rid himself of Galbatorix. If they found a way to free Murtagh then he had already made it plain that he would join Eragon in killing him. Eragon wasn't sure what would then happen – Murtagh had told him long ago that it wasn't the government he thought corrupted – just Galbatorix. But Eragon wasn't so sure – if one man could corrupt a government once – another in the future could do it again.

"Maybe. Let me think." Eragon answered finally, bringing his mind to the problem at hand.

Murtagh made a noise a mix between a grunt and a snort and walked away – into the shadows. Eragon sighed – thinking of the light in the palm of his hand growing bigger – big enough to light the passage ways – and then thought of the light going to the ceiling – hovering over their heads. He was relieved when the magic obeyed his thoughts and will. Eragon's eyes went to Murtagh's retreating form – and their father's sword at his side.

Eragon bit his lip, then closed his eyes – thinking of words he could use that would help them.

\--

Saphira roared – the noise bursting through her body, tightening her chest – sending flames spiting into the air. Thorn was quick to dash away – he was no longer thinking – he only wanted to mate. Saphira knew she had little time – she spread her wings – they were the color of the morning hue of blue and that of the evening sky.

With a powerful burst of her wings, easily thrusting herself into the air - and up, up into the sky – she was airborne and free.

Thorn did flips and twirls in the sky, a red blur against the darker blue hue of the setting sun – what he was doing - it could have only been described as dancing, for he was clearly showing off for her. He was following his instincts - trying to catch her attention – lure her closer.

So he would not have such a hard time catching her.

Saphira was having none of it. She flipped and dived in turn – challenging him.

He paused, halting – watching her, gilding in circles – nearer and nearer to her.

Saphira with a burst of energy, charged at him, swooping in low enough to scrape her talons against his back. He roared with surprise, tumbling in mid-air, then – seeing her flying away, he growled, summoning up his own adrenalin to chase her.

\--

" _Eragon_ …" It was a plea of a need alike to Thorn's own – and growl of possession that was very human. It came from Murtagh – his brother… who was out of sight. Eragon had been lost in the sensations and feelings of his dragon – enraptured with her – hadn't seen where Murtagh had gone.

Eragon was suddenly hot – dizzy with need, and he stumbled. He hadn't known he was moving until then. He didn't even know where he was going. He was torn in his duel feelings – one was to flee – run far and fast, away, or to be lured closer to Murtagh – to go to him – to be with him in mind and body.

Murtagh came into sight ahead of him, he was panting, sweat had beaded over his body – Eragon felt an alien urge surge up within him – he wanted to lick Murtagh all over. Lick the sweat off him – lick him clean of other – less clear things.

Eragon had stumbled away, suddenly frightened of his urges – needs.

"Eragon," his name trembled off his brother's lips, for all that it was husky – a name Murtagh would groan in the dark, Eragon shivered all over – hot and cold at once, "please…please don't run." Murtagh begged him, lust and other – warmer things, pulled at Eragon from Murtagh's eyes and voice.

"I...I…" Eragon stumbled over the words – unsure of what was what – what did he truly want? To be his brother's mate, or be alone in his mind - save Saphira? He didn't know.

Murtagh saw his reluctance – his confusion, and did not come closer. Instead, he leaned against the cold stone of the bookcases – seeking to clear his mind.

Murtagh felt his knees give out, his back pressing to the cold stone – was Eragon rejecting him? Neither knew what would happen to a Rider who rejected the Rider of the dragon his own dragon would mate. Something else – darker, alien – lurched up, demanding he take Eragon – even if it was against his will. Murtagh felt something within him that was closer to Eragon then Murtagh felt he ought to be reject that – curl up and scream in the corner of his mind – screaming his doubts and fears.

Murtagh was shaking – sickened, he wanted to be with Eragon – yes, but he would not force him. His own dragon would not force Saphira – she was goading him on, but Murtagh was certain, Saphira wanted Thorn as much – if not more, as Thorn wanted Saphira. That – he was certain – was how it should be with Riders.

Eragon was struggling with his own desires – but, something within him, at the core of himself - could not bare to see Murtagh – his brother, yes – for all that they had not been raised together – had not even known of each other until long after childhood - shivering curled into himself. Eragon's felt his reluctance break – sharp jagged edges that taunted him.

Awkwardly, Eragon went to Murtagh, every step was easier – more sure that he was doing the right thing – then the last. Finally – he stood in front of Murtagh – though he seemed not to notice. Eragon kneeled, scooting closer – somewhere in the walk Eragon had lost his shirt, and he found he did not miss it as he pressed his heated skin to Murtagh's own. Murtagh did not respond, for Murtagh's gaze was far away – lost, and Eragon knew he saw Thorn chasing Saphira. Rejoicing in the chase – even as Murtagh thought it would be the end of him.

It came to Eragon - then, like an oncoming storm, what was _wrong_ with Murtagh – he did not know that Eragon had long ago forgiven him for the Battle of the Burning Plains. Did not think Eragon could ever want him after such a betrayal.

"I forgive you, Murtagh…" Eragon's voice was rough – need filling it. Boldly, Eragon embraced Murtagh, pressing his face into his brother's neck –having already settled himself in Murtagh's lap. Murtagh's arms encircled him, and Eragon knew he was relieved – thankful.

With his forgiveness came the sudden – almost sharp – awareness of each other, of Eragon's warm body pressed against Murtagh – of Eragon's thighs – like burning coils - on either side of Murtagh's hips – of the cleft of Eragon's ass settled boldly against Murtagh's length.

Timidly, Eragon leaned his face closer – pressing his lips gently against his brothers. It was soft and sweet – but it was not what Murtagh wanted. Murtagh nipped at Eragon's lips, he opened them in his surprise – Murtagh roughly took hold of his brother's skull, gripping his hair – arching his hips against Eragon's ass just as he was thrusting his tongue into Eragon's willing mouth.

At that moment, Thorn caught Saphira – holding her against him, mating with her as he gliding them to the ground.

Eragon let out a keen whimper – with the sound, the magic stole their remaining clothes away. Murtagh hissed at the heat suddenly against his groin – the cleft of Eragon's ass surrounding him. Murtagh bit into Eragon's shoulder – holding him against him – a warning to be still, to not urge him on – for Murtagh feared he would hurt Eragon – even if Eragon was willing and eager for him.

Murtagh's teeth sunk into his flesh and Eragon felt his whole body tremble – feeling a rush of emotions and needs and wants that were not his own – but Murtagh's – if Murtagh noticed, or felt Eragon's own mind rushing against his, he did not show it.

Finally – Murtagh moved, pushing ever so slowly into Eragon – it drove Eragon slowly mad; Murtagh's reluctance to hurt him his first time was making him even _more_ frustrated. Growling softly – a warning for Murtagh not to protest, Eragon thrust himself down on Murtagh's length – impaling him self.

Murtagh gasped, his grip on Eragon's hair tensing – and the one hand on Eragon's hip made him sure he would leave bruises.

Eragon – who feeling no pain – if that was because of his link with Saphira or because he wanted and needed Murtagh inside him _now_ – but would feel it later; whatever the case he let himself arch upward – then fell back, moaning at the intense feeling of the _heat_ of Murtagh penetrating him.

Eragon arched again –then let gravity take over – riding Murtagh, who gasped and groaned his nails and teeth periodically sinking into Eragon's flesh. Both felt the building need and pleasure – shivering along their spines – griping them, holding onto them as they flew together. Panting in the aftermath of their release, Murtagh held Eragon again – Eragon's head was tucked against his throat and chest; Murtagh - even with his eyes closed, and his chin resting atop Eragon's hair, knew that Eragon was content, felt loved – just as he did.

They knew then – they were bonded.


	5. Aftermath…

Thorn's talons skimmed over Saphira's hide, unharmed the blue dragon twisted away – hissing a challenge. Mid air, they circled each other searching out weaknesses and strengths – if either of their Riders had seen, they would have worried about a fight – but this was a far different sort of battle.

Saphira oddly impatient to begin their dance, lunged foreword her wings quick to follow – darting beneath Thorn, caused the younger dragon to flare his wings in surprise – catching the wind and gliding downward. He hissed in anger, tail thrashing as he tried to gain altitude and reach her height once more.

Saphira's lips curled upward at the younger male's helpless state, at her apparent win, she purred, watching with dark satisfaction as Thorn was forced from the air by the very wind itself.

Thorn fought his spiraled downward glide, until he took notice of something Saphira had not – his nose lifted as he scented a wind from the coast that would lift him upward once more. He stayed still, hoping Saphira would take it as defeat – she had fallen for it.

Wings lifting his weight at an accelerated pace, he roared – coming up beneath Saphira. Knowing he could not endure a long flight, but was best at close range – he locked his talons with hers. Thorn practically preened when he saw the surprise in Saphira's gaze – it was a compliment indeed, that although younger and less experienced – he had bested her in this.

In the flicker of a heartbeat Saphira had brushed away her surprise, instead she snapped her jaws threateningly – hoping Thorn would flinch and break away. He did not though, merely snapping at her warningly, both dragons knew that one wrong move might mean their death.

As it was, Thorn's wings were struggling to match Saphira – and the reverse was also true, wind rushed around them – both a blessing and a curse. It kept them aloft – and ensured they could not dart away inches from the ground they were quickly approaching.

Saphira snarled menacingly as Thorn's teeth closed on her spines – which tore at Thorn's mouth, bloodying him – yet all the same it was better then having Saphira's teeth meet his hide.

 _ **What are you doing, you fool? Let me go**_! Saphira demanded – screaming her thoughts into his, her wings beating at him fiercely – his tail, longer then hers, had curled along her back like a lovers – leaving her to lead in their falling flight.

 _ **No**_. Thorn pressed against her – wary, yes – but after so much conflict he did not want to risk it all only to let her go. _**Please, Saphira – fly with me?**_ He pleaded – a mere whisper, but as she snorted in agreement – Thorn knew he had passed whatever unseen test she had laid for him.

Where once they had been falling from the sky at a dizzying rate, they – talons locked, with her spines still in his mouth – and his tail clinging to her – a surer grip then his talons – were now gliding. Saphira was indeed the better flyer – controlling their decent, and manipulating the winds to their advantage.

Thorn felt oddly safe with her in control – for all that he had been taught since hatching that she was his enemy – some part of him had always trusted her with more then just his life.

 _ **We will land soon**_. Saphira told him, her tone oddly soothing – Thorn tried to purr in contentment, as he had heard Saphira once do to reassure her Rider on the battle field – it came out a rumbling growl. Nonetheless, she seemed to sense his intent and also seemed amused with him.

He felt his wingtips tap the ground, and was quick to clench them to his sides – half fearing that they would be damaged. Thorn thought him self silly a moment later – the landing was the gentlest he had ever endured. It was with a sudden realization that he found himself below her – instead of atop as Shruikan had once instructed.

He thrashed then, trying to manipulate her to being beneath him. _**Why**_? Her voice within his mind questioned, and her gaze was fixed upon him, waiting for his answer. He stilled, huffing softly, confused – he let go of the spike bones along her neck – no longer worried she would tare out his throat. He had been outmaneuvered – and all his instincts screamed she was going to kill him – but he knew something deeper then instinct had taken hold.

 _ **I do not know –**_ _ **Shruikan said it was the way it is done**_ … Thorn answered, glancing aside, if he had been human, he was sure his cheeks would be as burning red as his hide.

Her breath came out as a whoosh, her amusement was obvious. Thorn grumbled deep within his chest, gaze flicking to her wings, they framed her – occasionally flapping to keep her balance perched atop him.

 _ **We will do it our own way**_. Saphira murmured softly – reassuringly into his mind, her tongue flicking out to lick at his muzzle playfully. He stretched out beneath her – already having decided to go along with whatever she decided. Lovingly, their tails entwined – Thorn keened softly in surprises when she moved against his shaft – with a playful nip, Saphira took him. In the back of their minds, they knew an echo of their experience was shared between their Riders.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Shruikan was awoken from a sound – if blissful sleep, by the doors to his lair being slammed open by Galbatorix. His eyes opened, taking in the sight of the furious narrow eyed man before him. _What_ , the dragon wondered, _does he want_?

"Did you _know_?" Galbatorix demanded, practically spitting out the words. Shruikan merely blinked at him, his great head tilting to the side as if trying to unravel the puzzle of the man before him.

 _ **Know, what do I know that you do not**_? The dragon asked the man mentally, puzzled at how he knew him.

"The two boys – Eragon and Murtagh, did you know their dragons – and in turn, they, were _bonded_?" With those words Galbatorix's fury was explained, for Shruikan _did_ know – he had kept it though, kept it from his mind so the mad man before him would not find out. But, if he had done that successfully – and Shruikan was sure that he had – how did Galbatorix grow to suspect he had kept it from him?

Puzzled at this, Shruikan tried to remember if he had let it slip – sometimes remembering was hard, sometimes far to easy. This was not one of the easy times – once more Shruikan gave a not-answer.

 _ **And if I had – what would you have done against it? You can not keep two dragons apart**_. Galbatorix snarled wordlessly at him, his hands balled into the clenched fists at his sides. For a moment he looked about to hit the dragon – and Shruikan would not have been surprised if he had. His entire life he had been at Galbatorix's mercy – or at least what he could remember of his life.

"I would not have sent the two to face each other – _that_ is for certain." Galbatorix's yell echoed in the lair, and Shruikan exhaled his amusement.

 _ **Ironic, that**_. Shruikan agreed, his lips curling upward against his teeth in a show of his amusement.

"As you failed to inform me that my ties to Murtagh would not hold with this bond – you are of no use – you are no longer the only dragon left Shruikan – and I will not have to put up with you for much longer." Galbatorix murmured darkly, his gaze set on the dragon before him.

 _ **What are you rambling of now? Not even you could withstand a pair of bond mate's fury**_. Shruikan sought out – knowing that despite everything else – this was important information Galbatorix was all but blurting out.

"You did not sense the birth of the last egg? Pity – I suppose it hatched right on time to corrupt it away from its Rider – as I did to you, Shruikan." Galbatorix gloated, for it was an old wound between man and dragon.

 _ **You are no Rider of mine, Galbatorix – and I would not be alive if my Rider was not. Not even you, Galbatorix, can kill a Rider and expect the dragon to live**_. The dragon's eyes narrowed upon the man who was stealing way his life-force.

"Your Rider wonders these lands, unaware of you – it would be best to give up hope of aid from that miserable mongrel." Galbatorix sneered, an air of triumph about him. Shruikan's tail thrashed, his fangs bared at the man before him.

 _ **Take care of how you speak; I might just decide that destroying you is worth my life**_. Shruikan hissed – his eyes narrowed, the chains around him rattled as his wings flexed.

"Perhaps you would forfeit your life, but that of your poor _senseless_ Rider? Do not think you can trick me, dragon – no, you will die when I desire you to cease to be." From the look in Galbatorix's eyes – Shruikan knew that would likely not be long from now.

The doors closed, and the stream of light that had lit his lair ceased to be. From within the darkness, Shruikan considered what he had learned – and plotted the downfall of a man he had reluctantly served for more then a hundred years.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

The darkness was unchanging, save of the odd reassuring chirp of the baby dragon, Katrina sat in stifling silence. Not even the Ra'zac came near her cage anymore. _Why would they?_ She thought bitterly, she couldn't possibly free her self – and even if she managed that she was so high up she'd have to find a way of flying down.

Even with a newly hatched dragon, that just was not going to happen.

At times she found herself humming into the silence – sometimes the baby would sing with her – a high lonely keening. For the most part they were still fed in the morning and evening. Though all the food went to the baby – it was continually ravenous.

Perhaps _that_ was why the Ra'zac left – they feared the baby's appetite.

Sometimes – just to hear something, Katrina would tell the little dragon all she remembered of the legends of dragons she remembered from Brom. And those she remembered from her own mother, who had only known the legends of the Spine – baby particularly liked those. Sometimes she thought he – for the baby, her little darling, was assuredly male – would seem to understand.

Always though, unless at her side - the baby would pace the cage – his tail lashing and wings flapping, as if he could not wait to fly away. Thoughts of what she would do if he did leave persisted to haunt her; for all that she was sure it was quite imposable to leave. If he did leave – she was sure he would somehow send for help – sometimes she told him about the adventures she imagined for him if he did find a way out.

Somehow, he would get to Roran or Eragon – and they would know immediately that she had sent the baby to them. After the first day, she began to call the baby – Spine, for – somehow - he was so much like the wild mountains she remembered.

Katrina, not knowing why she would - stood, his head twisted to follow her as she retreated to the barred window – below, was a dark city – one she was sure did not care to know she was being held against her will.

Spine scampered up her dress, perching himself upon her shoulder. For all that he was no bigger then a lizard, he gave the impression of greatness. Timidly, Katrina scratched the soft skin of his head – wishing he, at least, could fly away from here. Spine shook himself, chirping at her – as if trying to speak – his tail motioned to the window.

It was then Katrina noticed her lizard-like Spine was just small enough to slip through the bars. Her heart fluttered in her chest – like a caged bird dreading and hoping for escape. Carefully, she lifted him to her lips, kissing him on the muzzle.

"If you can fly from here, Spine – please do so, but…do not forget me…" Spine cooed, nuzzling her cheek, alike a helpless little puppy. Katrina felt a moment of dread – that Spine would not be able to survive without her, would parish and she would never know it – then thought her self silly when she remembered Brom's tales of wild dragons. She had seen for herself Spine kill a mouse only hours after hatching – he was a fine hunter, and she had praised him for his talent for it had ridden her of the nasty vermin.

Spine could surely hunt for himself – and save that he seemed only content near her, Katrina knew he could survive. She set her hand which Spine perched upon onto the barred window. He hopped off it – and after giving her a few soft mewls, he hopped from the window – wings spreading, catching a wind which swiftly carried him from this dreadful place.

"Good luck…" Her heart ached to see him go, and when she could not see him, she went back to the corner of her cell, her gaze rested on her silver scarred palm until she could hold her eyes open no longer.


	6. Probability…

Elva's fingers ran gently through the hair of the shaggy-haired boy whose head rested in her lap. She wore a dress, though she wished to ware breaches – it simply was not "proper", no matter how many times the dress was dirtied or torn in her efforts to actively act as a shield for the people.

An accidental curse lay upon her by the Dragon Rider Eragon. She chanced to glace down at the boy half asleep in her lap, and her forehead, caught in the sunlight, glittered as the star on her brow gleamed.

Her tiny feet were sandaled and swung doll-like back and forth, she had a pensive frown on her face – one that should not be on the face of a four year old, for all that she was truly only supposed to be a babe.

The boy whose head laid in her lap was larger then her – old enough to look like he belonged on a battle field when he brought the dagger hidden in his ragged belt that was hooked to the faded pants he wore, they were low slung on his hips and did not leave much to the imagination – for all that "improperness" did not apply to him.

He was no _real_ boy at all – he was a werecat, his eyes gave him away as they changed between wild red and amber, as he saw something Elva did not. He was a mystery to her – one she enjoyed puzzling about, the largest puzzle piece was that for no reason other then his own inclination, traveled with the woman they waited so silently to acknowledge them.

Both boy and girl watched the curly brown haired woman - known as the witch, Angela – who sat at a window sill, seeming to look out of it. Both know that her eyes were closed, and her face expressionless. She was attempting to scry for Eragon, so far – other then determining that he was safe and that something had occurred to "settle" him, she had had no success.

It had been like that for a day.

Elva knew this worried the witch, for normally Angela had no problems finding what she wanted. Then – as if summoned out of the trance by Elva's thoughts, Angela's body seemed to slump, defeated once again.

"Do I need to ask that you found anything useful?" The werecat boy – Solembum spoke up, proving he was not in fact asleep as Elva had suspected he might be – it would not be the first time she had caught him "dozing".

"I found out many things useful – but nothing, unfortunately, that applies to either Katrina or Eragon…" Angela told him, her normally eccentric air somewhat shattered by her unsuccessful attempts.

"They will be where trouble is – of that I have no doubt." Elva murmured softly, purple eyes resting assuredly on Angela. The elder woman smiled slightly, coming over to sit beside them on the small cot.

"I know that as well – I just wish I could be near them when the trouble hits…" Angela said softly, and Elva tried to smile –it was hard to, she constantly felt and sensed the coming pain of others, and though she did her best to make them stop hurting - it was quite impossible to make sure everyone was safe all the time. Angela, upon meeting her, had tried everything – the end assumption being that only Eragon could at least in part have better luck in lifting the curse.

"If you asked me, I'd say both of you underestimate him." Solembum stated insistently as he sat up, one knee beneath him - the other tucked against his chest where his arms wrapped around himself.

"We, as you may remember, do not have your sources for knowledge." Angela murmured to him – for all that her tone was soft and controlled, she might as well have been grumbling.

"You have what you have, that should be enough to keep faith that Eragon can survive a day without you." Solembum told her shortly, his feelings ruffled, he abruptly – and quite rudely – turned into a cat before their eyes, signaling an end to the conversation. Angela sighed, a small amused smile playing on her lips as, beside her, Elva tensed up.

"Roran, Nasuada, Arya, Orik, and Trianna are coming – they worry for Eragon." Elva whispered to Angela, her hands clenched in her lap and her eyes on them as she tried to calm herself – tried to ward off the feeling that crept along her skin like spiders – something _was_ wrong, but nothing yet endangered anyone…

Angela patted her shoulder, then rose walking to the door and opening it before they could knock – as Elva had said, they stood there before her awkward and determined.

"Good day, Lady Angela…we were wondering, if you could find…" Nasuada began awkwardly, and Angela smiled softly at her, halting her words.

"Eragon is, as you suspect – gone. I have searched for him, but wherever he may be, it is not a place I have laid eyes on, a sure way for him to hide himself from all of us…." Angela's tone was strangely bitter, and it was obvious – at least to Elva that she had not liked implying that Eragon had run away.

Elva knew he had not – of that, she knew – his magic lay within and around her, reminding and binding her to the curse – he would not have had such magic if he too was not determined to do as she was.

"Or just Murtagh…" Trianna insisted her eyes narrowed on Angela – disliking the implication that Eragon had run away. Roran merely met Elva's eyes – as Nasuada had, and knew that was not the case. Where ever Eragon was – he was close to Murtagh, unharmed, and had no run away.

"No – he is with Murtagh, and unharmed." Elva said abruptly before speculations could begin.

"Just what are you implying?" Orik demanded – but having read something from Elva's expression, Arya merely stood by, startled by implications.

"There has been a great change in the future – something I had not expected, for now I'm not implying anything – I am stating merely the facts." Angela reassured, and from behind her Solembum gave a very cat-like cough. Angela turned to him, frowning down at him – almost glaring but not quite.

"Is there something you'd like to add?" She demanded of him, he flicked his tail, his eyes telling her plainly she was acting oddly – even compared to the amount of strangeness the people gathered at her door were used to.

At his silence, she turned her attention back to them.

"Will he return?" Arya asked softly once her attention had shifted from Solembum.

"Yes." Elva answered quickly before Angela could.

"Will Murtagh?" Roran asked, his expression pensive, having remembered how confused his cousin had been when Murtagh had revealed himself to be Eragon's half brother.

"They will not be parted." Solembum – who had been a cat mere moments before, reappeared as a boy – starling them, but his answer was heard and he did not seem concerned that they knew him to be something other then a cat or boy.

"What do you mean by that?" Nasuada demanded of him, Solembum smiled slowly, and Angela could tell he was about to say something she would not like explaining.

"Ask Angela – he prophesized his love life, not I." Solembum teased, glancing to Angela – she had been right at what he had chosen to say, though she wished she hadn't been. As if to mock her, he changed again, and padded out of the room, tail held high as he left her to answer their questions.

"Well?" Ronan asked it – and he seemed more amused then anything.

"It is a personal matter – I do not think Eragon would want you to know." Angela tried, but before she could shut the door, Roran held it open his once amused expression now closed.

"My cousin trusts us – you should try to." Roran whispered softly to her – she jerked away, expression shuttered. Elva reassuringly placed her tiny hand on Angela's arm, and Angela looked gratefully at her – then turned her attention upon Roran.

"And you should learn to let a matter drop when it does not concern you." Angela told him in turn, glaring at his hand in her door – fearing she might hurt his hand, Roran jerked his hand away from it.

"Please, Angela – just tell us what you're hinting at." Arya pleaded softly, reluctantly looking Angela in the eye.

"I told Eragon he would fall in love with a noble – I assumed a lady, I was wrong." Angela shut the door before all of them quite understood the undertones of her hint.

Arya had at first looked guilty – then startled as she connected what Eragon had said about his father to Eragon's current interest. His father had been noble – it stood to reason that Murtagh, and – in turn, Eragon himself was as well.

Roran did not need Arya's glance in his direction – he had pieced it together, it had unsettled him – but he would wait to speak to Eragon before letting himself get too carried away.

Nasuada, who also knew Eragon's origins was unreadable – for all that, Orik and Trianna were quick to understand – though they did not know who Angela had hinted at – both assumed it was Murtagh, who was absent along with Eragon.

Roran chuckled softly, not pausing to take in the expressions of the others as he left them, still gathered – though more awkwardly then determined now – around Angela's door.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Spine dared not land, for all that he was a day or more old (for he did not know exactly) – he was as big as a cat, easy prey for those that had a taste for him and did not mind that he looked odd to them. He found it easy to use the wind currents to his advantage, as he did not need to flex his wings nearly as much as usual.

Despite liking flight - he was afraid for his Rider, she was alone – and without him, she was vulnerable – they both were. He understood then what he needed to do – he _needed_ to find another Rider – one that would not pose a danger, would help him free his Rider.

Near panicked with this need he reached deep within himself, touching the magic that made up his very essence. A moment later, he flickered out of the air – only to reappear far away from his Rider and very tired.

His forked tongue flicked out – tasting the air around him, attempting to find danger.

He found it – in the form of a cat, it looked as startled to see him as he was to see it. It hissed softly, teeth gleaming threateningly – Spine realized with a jolt that compared to the cat – he was smaller. He hunched onto his belly, wings flared open trying to appear more trouble then he was worth.

It had worked on the Ra'zac – but the cat only seemed amused at his efforts. Without a sound, the cat waved his tail in a "follow me" gesture – intrigued, Spine wobbled after. Just as he was rounding a corner the cat had rubbed against – Spine shrieked to feel small but strong hands around his belly, clamping his wings to his sides so he could not escape.

The boys eyes were what gave him away – the cat had had the same eyes – red and amber. It was only then that Spine realized what he was dealing with – his instincts and the knowledge passed to him by generations of dragons told him assuredly he was dealing with a werecat…

What convinced him was that when he inhaled, taking in the werecats scent – he sneezed, sniffing indignantly when the werecat _laughed_ at him.

"Look what I caught, Angela." The werecat spoke then, having entered a room which held two other humans. At least Spine assumed both were just humans until he got a good look at the elder female who had turned toward the werecat to see what he had to show her.

"Oh my goodness – a dragon hatchling, do you think it has a Rider, Solembum?" There was hope in her tone – hope that what Spine knew, that he was the last of the dragons – was not true.

 _ **Katrina is**_ _ **my Rider.**_ Spine tried to mentally say, or rather impress upon Angela with images – she jerked away, her eyes wide.

"I'd guess from your expression that the answer is yes…" Solembum muttered, shifting his weight in a way that made little Spine want to growl his annoyance. Unfortunately the werecat had been wise, and pressed his maw together with his other hand – it also prevented Spine from snapping at the wercat's fingers.

"Yes, this is the third hatched dragon…its Rider…" Angela paused, pressing her lips together as she tried to make sense of the images Spine was pressing into her mind. Finally, after wading through images of a tower – of a city, of the Ra'zac, Angela saw from Spine's perspective as he had lifted his head and seen Katrina, who Roran had described to her in such detail she would recognize the girl anywhere.

"…Katrina is this dragon's Rider." Angela murmured, her surprise showing though her tone.

"Katrina… as in the Katrina that will be Roran's future-wife?" Elva asked, as she sat on the cot, her purple eyes trained on the squirming green dragon.

"Yes." Angela leaned against the wall, her eyes gazing upon the little dragon.

"She is, as Eragon guessed, trapped in a tower in Helgrind, the little one is familiar with Ra'zac… the brave girl sent him away to find help…" Angela smiled somewhat sympathetically at the dragon, whose heart beat fluttered against Solembum's hand.

"How did he get here?" Solembum asked as he loosed his grip, sure now that Spine had learned his lesson and would not attempt an escape.

"The need in magic is in him, but of course." Angela answered in a tone that reflected her thought that Solembum should have known such a thing. Red-amber eyes caught Angela's – there was a wary anger in the werecat's eyes.

"What I meant was why seek us out? None of us have ever met Katrina." Solembum's words were precise and clear, for all that the implication that he disliked Angela's hint that he was less knowledgeable in magic then she was, was clear.

"That is an easy answer, Solembum." Angela assured softly, carefully peeling off her gloves. Elva took them from the witch, folding them and setting them on the table. The little girl carefully did not look at either of them, knowing this was something personal between the two. Solembum – who looked about to demand a answer, had paused, seeing something in the way Angela stood that only he – as her longtime friend, would recognize.

For all that, Solembum did not know everything about Angela, he had met her while she had been wandering, and followed her, intrigued by the woman who faced the world bluntly without aid or plan.

"Spine was looking for a Rider." Angela said so softly Solembum almost did not hear.

"I am not a Rider." Solembum spoke bluntly – he had no need to look to Elva, the girl was carefully avoiding looking at him.

"No – you are not…but I think I was." Angela admitted to him her expression pained as she lifted her palm, the silver scar of a Rider showed bluntly against the tan skin, she was carefully not looking to Solembum – but to Spine, who took advantage of Solembum's surprise and leapt from his hands, fluttering his wings hastily to fly onto Angela's shoulder.

"Where is your dragon?" Solembum choked out, his expression hurt as he turned to look away from Angela more aware now of the secrets between them.

"I do not know…" At Angela's helpless tone, he had looked up – to Elva it looked as if he wanted to comfort her.

"I thought it had died, and I had forgotten it…" Angela managed to explain, Spine nudged her cheek comfortingly, trying to purr. Solembum sighed, knowing he could not stay angry with Angela – some things though made more sense now as he looked back on them.

"I think Spine coming here means that your dragon is not dead at all, Angela." Elva spoke soothingly, not wanting them to fight – or to have hurt feelings. Solembum's head tilted, his eyes going to Angela's hand - then to his friends face.

"I think the little one is right – you would remember the death of a dragon." Solembum's tone was so convinced – had such faith in her that Angela only smiled at him and paused in soothing the little green dragon that had perched on her shoulder when Solembum smiled back, teeth glinting as he spoke.

"We then must find your dragon." Angela raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips twitching in a frown.

"And how do you propose we find something like a dragon?" Angela asked in turn, Solembum's hands were on his hips, he leaned foreword – and standing on tip toe, whispered in her ear.

"We let it know you want to be found." Elva, for all that she should not have heard him speak, nodded in agreement, her purple eyes far away.

"All you must do is connect with it once more…" Elva said, and Angela sighed softly, sitting back on the window sill, the dragon having crawled down into her lap, and sat there, looking up at her comfortingly.

"I…I am afraid…" Angela admitted, and Solembum nodded, walking towards her to lay his hand on the shoulder Spine had vacated.

"Nothing worth doing is without a little fear – but Elva and I will be here, and nothing will hurt you so long as we are around." Solembum assured, awkwardly patting the witches – no, the Riders, shoulder. Angela's reflection in the window smiled, and Solembum watched as she closed her eyes, trying to reconnect a bond he suspected had been severed by another.


	7. Unrequited

" _Eragon - !" Roran had yelled as he burst into the room he shared with his cousin, likely expecting to find the younger boy gone – instead he found Eragon gazing out his window locked in mental communication with his dragon._

" _Eragon?" Roran echoed more softly as he approached his cousin, heeled boots clicked on the wooden floor – alerting Eragon to his presence. Eragon turned to him, unsurprised at his appearance, so Roran took it to heart his brother-of-heart was not ill._

" _Murtagh is here," Eragon told him, rising from his bed, speaking as if Roran wouldn't understand, and then he said something that made Roran's insides go cold for his tone alone, "if you get the chance – ask Arya about the Dragon's Dance." Eragon did not give him so much as a backward glance as he left._

Roran gasped awake – eyes wide, sightlessly staring into the darkness that surrounded him. _Its night_ – Roran realized abruptly feeling half like a fool and more then a little paranoid, _Eragon has been gone three days._ Nevertheless he could not shake the feeling that something was _wrong_.

So, for once – Roran followed Eragon's advice, even if it had come to him in a dream. Pausing only to put on a vest (for he had slept in his pants) Roran dare not look at the second bed – Eragon's bed – as he left to find Arya.

"Roran?" Arya called out to him from the kitchen, Roran paused in the hallway, looking at her. Now that he was confronted with her, he found he did not know exactly how to put what he wanted to say into words.

"Arya." Roran returned softly, with a nod of his head in her direction as he walked to the table she sat at and seated himself across from her.

"Can't sleep?" She asked sipping at some tea. Her pinkie tilted upward, Roran glanced aside searching for words in a way that would not leave him looking – and sounding – foolish. _You are being ridiculous_ , Roran chided himself as he looked down at his hands.

"Not exactly – I, uh, had a dream a little bit ago," Arya eyebrow had gone up in interest, her eyes gleamed with amusement and Roran flushed – realizing what he had accidentally implied, "not about you! Erm, not that your _unattractive_ , it's just – ah…" Roran came to a stop feeling the part of a child, frustrated he sighed breaking the night silence abruptly, when he looked up again he noted Arya smiling in a whimsical way.

"Your dream, I trust, is still of some significance?" Roran nodded the tips of his hair covering his hair as he did so. I'll need to cut it soon, Ronan thought as he turned his attention to what he had dreamed – and what Angela had hinted at.

"Eragon, before he left, mentioned that if I should need answers, you would know them." Arya did not seemed displeased or surprised at his words, merely nodding, and sipping again at her tea.

"I need to know what the Dragon Dance is." _That_ caught Arya's attention – she carefully set her teacup down, and stared out of the kitchen windows into the garden.

"Long before my people came across the sea, we were humans – or rather, we were humans who could do magic, and thus, considered ourselves a race above humans. After we entered the bond with the dragons, we knew what it meant to be a different people." Arya spoke softly, and if Roran had not strained to hear her words, he would have missed them.

"After the alliance, there was one last great dispute with dragons and elves – that of the Dragon Dance. Female dragons, when they come of age, produces a scent unique to themselves that attracts potential males – elves at that time thought themselves above the carnal, physical, pleasures – elves who were dragon riders were proven beyond a doubt, susceptible." Roran felt a cold chill run through him, and he bit his lip, forcing himself to relax tensed muscles.

"At first it can as quite a shock for noble ladies and lords to confess to bedding each other at the whim of desire from their dragons. Dragon riders became a people unto themselves, parting company with humans and elves, preferring places only their dragons could get to and comfortably live – alike to the desert and the islands along the cost. Then elves were forced to face them, forced to accept that compared to all others, dragon riders were superior – this set in stone the firm alliance of dragon rider – elves or human - and elves. It is an uneasy truce we share now with dwarves and urgals." Arya admitted coldly, sipping at her forgotten tea.

"You mean that Galbatorix and his Foresworn not only betrayed the dragon riders – but your people as well?" Roran asked, feeling all at once the full meaning of Galbatorix betrayal, and the very firm belief that if anyone would stand beside his cousin with the loyalty Roran felt, it would be the elves.

"Preci _s_ ely, all of _this,"_ she waved her hand about to show the entirely of the situation – the upcoming and greatly feared war – her presence among them, everything that had changed, "is because he tried to stop his own she-dragon from mating, and as a result killed her." The words felt cold, but Arya's eyes were saddened. _For the fate of the dragon_ , Roran realized with a chill.

"That is the dragon's dance – a mating between dragons that the riders share?" Roran asked softly, if only to clarify what Eragon faced. Slowly, Arya nodded, and Roran felt strangely out of place.

Arya head jerked suddenly in the direction of the gardens, and Roran knew without asking that she heard someone approach.

"Leave." Roran did not dare question her when her eyes locked with his; instead he stood, bowed jerkily, and fled, feeling very much alone once in the hallway with the kitchen door having closed on its own behind him. The feeling did not last, when he heard a whisper from Arya still in the kitchens.

"When did you get here, Rhunön - Maud?"

Eragon had told him of the elf maiden Rhunön – she was a blacksmith who had made Rider swords and taken a vow never to make one again. Maud, Roran knew from Eragon, was like Solembum- a werecat, only she kept the appearance of a silver haired old woman with sharp teeth, and acted as the companion of the elf Queen, Islanzadí – so Arya's question caught his interest.

Roran came closer to the door, his palm against the warm wood – he paused then, hearing the unfamiliar feminine tone that answered.

"It is said the worst news travels the quickest – and I am afraid this is just such a case." The voice was old – and oddly as wise as Solembum sometimes seemed to be. Taking this to be Maud, Roran, now curious, let his hand fall to his side – frowning at the door, as if to see who Arya spoke to just beyond it.

"Du Weldenvarden," Arya spoke in a mere whisper, her voice catching in her throat, "has it…?"

"No – it has not fallen to Galbatorix, m'lady…but I'm afraid we witnessed the execution of an assassin just before we left…" This voice of Rhunön was somehow young and old – but smooth and noble.

".. _Who_..?"

"Vanir, m'lady, in some misguided attempt to gain revenge against you for allowing the egg to fall into the hands of Eragon, attacked Queen Islanzadí while meditating - Glaedr and Oromis felt the power of Du Weldenvarden shifting and attempted to save her – unfortunately help came too late to do any good," Maud fell short as Arya made a small, choked sound of protest, continuing only when Arya sounded calmer, "Vanir saw them approach – likely, he expected them - or planed them to be his next victims, somehow he surprised Oromis – likely pretending to be a witness - he took a Rider's sword and plunged it into his heart. Glaedr only survived long enough to ruin Vanir's face so we knew who had killed them. You, m'lady – have been named Queen." Maud fell silent, and though there was no noise, Roran was sure Arya was crying, and felt like a slug for overhearing something so personal.

"Where were you, Maud?" Arya asked softly, Roran heard fabric move and assumed one of the two were hugging Arya.

"She was with me…" Rhunön admitted softly.

"We need to know, Arya, will you accept the position of Queen?" Maud asked then, a hint of worry entering her tone.

"I…I have to think about this." There was the soft sound of stone-on-hardened leather as Arya strode quickly out of the kitchens through the garden entrance. Roran felt grateful to her, for not revealing his position – he started to turn back to his rooms when he heard Maud speak again.

"Come out, child." Roran froze, feeling his stomach twist unpleasantly at the prospect of being caught listening to a conversation he had no right to hear.

"How did you know?" Roran could have sung with relief hearing Solembum speak.

"I am not so old to not smell you in the garden." Old Maud answered sharply.

"I did not imply you were – tell me of the weapon under the Menoa tree." Solembum suggested softly, and Rhunön sighed.

"As you suspected, Linnëa gave back the dagger she had stolen from my forge – ironic that she used a blade that only in the hands of a Rider, and with the magic of a dragon, may turn into a sword to kill her lover. I refitted it with a jewel that I think matches Saphira's hide very well, Eragon will be pleased – where is he so that I might show him it?" Rhunön asked then, there was a silence – and then Solembum sighed, reluctantly speaking.

"Eragon left days ago to engage Murtagh in battle over the skies of Surda – they have subsequently gone missing. We suspect…we suspect Galbatorix plotted to use the Dragon Dance to turn Eragon to his side with the aid of the bond now between Saphira and Thorn." At Solembum's speculation, the pit of Roran's stomach felt like stone.

Not caring if they heard him – he walked away, down the hall, not caring where he was going, so long as he did not have to think of his cousin put in Galbatorix's hands by the betrayal of his own brother.


	8. Fatality...

Katrina could feel the change that gripped the Ra'zac, they hissed between each other – though how they could do such a thing with their beaks, she did not know. The very air seemed hard to breath. Then evening came, and the Ra'zac come to her, it seemed nervous – but she tried not to think of what the Ra'zac could do to her if it found out what she had done.

"S-so, how is the little one?" Its dark eyes met hers, and Katrina bit her lip, suddenly afraid. The Ra'zac were a great many things – but the one thing they were not was stupid. Spine could have been hidden away in her hair, in her lap – she was shadowed, in darkness – but the Ra'zac had proven they could see in the dark. They would know Spine was gone. They would know– and likely kill her.

"I do not know what you're talking about." Katrina said softly, eyes carefully trained on the Ra'zac's own.

"The dragon, stupid girl – what have you done with the dragon?" The Ra'zac sounded more then a little nervous now – he sounded panicked, Katrina felt the fear build, and her heart ached.

"That little monster is gone." She had to stop the tears, the well of emotion at the thought she might be right. That Spine might be dead – that she wouldn't know until it was too late – her heart ached.

"No! You stupid girl, he'll see you killed for this!" Something told her that the Ra'zac was more worried about its own death then hers.

"So be it." Katrina stated, finding that as long as she did not think about Roran – her beloved Roran – or Spine, she had the strength to look death in the eye and spit at its feet. The Ra'zac hissed with rage, leaving without a backward glance.

 _Please_ , she thought as she closed her eyes, _let Spine be safe_. I can do this if I know he will be alright…For all that she felt she was being far too bold, she did it to hide the deep fear that it was too late, and she would die for nothing.

 _Let him find someone kind,_ Katrina felt tears threaten and stared upward, fighting them away even as she thought of Spine cooing in her lap, muzzle bloody from a dead rat, i _f I do not live through this._

The thought chilled her, though it forced her to acknowledge the possibility.

"I do not want to die…" _But I will if it means keeping Spine safe_. Katrina finished unspoken, she took a shaky breath, for a moment she thought she saw movement in the all enclosing darkness – but it had to have been only her imagination, for she saw nothing.

"Then tell me where you sent your little green dragon." A voice – a whisper broke the silence the darkness had blessed her with. Katrina tensed, looking for the origin – though she saw no one.

"He is gone. I do not know where." Katrina answered the voice, hoping it would find her uninteresting – hoping it would leave her alone, for somehow, in someway, it was more terrifying then the Ra'zac.

"You lie." She felt a grip around her throat – as if something tightened a noose around her neck. "The little one would not leave you –it is not in a dragon's nature to leave its Rider." Katrina closed her eyes, she had thought – in the back of her mind – that maybe that was what she – they – were, dragon and Rider, but had seemed so impossible.

"I sent him away." Katrina choked, feeling something rattle around in her mind.

"Where." It was a demand – an order – it had to be answered.

 _Why_? She asked herself, and felt the urge to answer the order falter for a moment. The impulse spoke of loyalty – to the Empire, to her master – the King. _I have never served or met either. I owe nothing_. She insisted mentally, somehow finding the strength to answer as her thoughts lingered on what she would be betray if she answered – though how she knew this, she didn't understand. It was impulse – a need. Protect Spine, at all coats. Her mind had been made up as she let him go, she would not turn back – betray –that now. Could not.

"Answer – where did he go?" She felt as if something tore into her mind– it pained her, so much pain it brought tears to her eyes. Pain could be endured, if there was a physical pain to match it.

"I do not know." Katrina tucked her neck back – hitting her head against the stone wall. It brought a flash of pain – and the voice, the demand – faltered like an old mans heart.

"Fool girl, you do know – but it is buried so deep, I doubt you are aware. I think only death would unfold your mind. So be it – the dragon, your little Spine, was barely with you a day. I do not doubt he will survive your death – then there will be nothing to stand in my way from taking him. Too bad you had to die so soon, we would have been great together, you and I." The voice faded to a dull roar – then it seemed to Katrina that the voice became like the ocean, vast – ancient, and powerful, though it was not at all his power.

 _He steals it_ …the thought whispered through her like a butterfly, beautiful in the relief it brought, relief that he was not all powerful – he had a weakness. Then like an ocean, his mind turned into a storm, a storm she could only sense and could not defend against. He held her mind open like a foot in the door, though his presence was far enough away for her not to think him a great threat.

That was a mistake. All at once the foot in the door levered her mind open, swung it open wide – and the storm assaulted her. The most awful moments in her life – her mother's death, her own deep bidding fear that she wasn't good enough would never be good enough – even the recent horrors; being stolen with her father, witnessing his death – assaulted her. The storm forced them awake – forced her to see them, over and over and over again –she heard screaming.

She thought it might be her. Something in her mind snapped, like a trap, and she found herself isolated, alone within her own mind once more. Though it seemed cramped – as if her mind had gotten cleaved in half, she was safe though – and witnessed as the cage opened and the Ra'zac crept in.

They lifted her up, gently, as if she was a broken doll misused. She found then, she could not move her own limbs – it was if the link between mind and body had been severed, she saw them – smelt them – tasted the blood were teeth had bit in her mouth – heard them even.

"You should have listened to us, poor, stupid child." The Ra'zac told her, his hand on her shoulder. Once he had sat her up, and made her stand –he only needed to lead her where she was to go, and she followed like a lost child.

She couldn't respond. She was like an empty doll, for the first time in her life she felt helpless – there had always been something she could do –some choice. There wasn't now – for she could not even control her own body.

The Ra'zac led her down a bare tunnel, and to a great door. _I do not want to go in there._ She thought frantically, trying to attach mind to body – to control what she had abandoned in the storm of the voice's mind. Her only response was a shudder and a barely heard whimper.

It made no difference; she was shoved through the door – pushed out of the tunnel like trash. It was cold here – and she feared she had been abandoned, left to watch as her body died and torture her mind for she could do nothing to stop it.

Then she saw eyes –eyes like Spine's – human eyes, only huge – watching her. They were dark eyes – brown, like Roran's – like Eragon's – in her surprise (for it seemed her body was aware of what she could see and responded mutely to it) her body tensed – held its breath as it waited for instructions on how to react that though she felt the tug, Katrina could not give.

 _ **A child? I hunger and he gives me a girl-child**._ This voice was different, where the first voice was human and held her in contempt – this voice was wild, and had no interest in her save as human – prey.

The body of the beast – of the dragon – came closer, and Katrina saw the scales and sleek muscle. It was black – the dragon was black. The brown eyes regarded her, considering.

 _ **You must have done something to irate him – for him to do this to you. Unwise, on your part, but I will make your death a painless one**._ He was going to kill her – eat her, wildly, she wondered if Spine would have become as heartless as this being before her, if she had kept him if she had let the voice take them into the darkness.

The maw of the dragon came closer, she could smell the blood of countless lives – countless beings, on him. He was savage – intelligent, but brutal, doing what he had to, to survive. She understood that – but she did not want to die.

Teeth, huge teeth like razors were all she could see. He was opening his mouth – he was going to kill her. Eat her.

 _No_! Katrina screamed mentally, her body jerking – falling, her hands fell against her lap, palms up. It was luck – luck had saved her.

 ** _Rider_!** Came the surprised mental accusation.

 ** _You are – or were a Rider, answer me – do you know your dragon? Is it alive_?** The dragon's voice asked, nudging her hands with his nose. It was as if he thought she were an idiot – though she didn't doubt she looked it.

 _Yes. Spine – he is, was, alive. I do not know anymore. I am Katrina._ Her mental voice faltered – there was no demand within the mental voice she heard, pleading – earnest need, yes, but no demand – no impulse – to answer. It was what made her reply for his desperation pulled at her.

 ** _Shruikan. You would know if Spine died, he has not – I sense him though the bond you share. Did he do this to you?_ **Shruikan tone was otherwise calm, but Katrina was not fooled. Nor did she think she could lie – she was too exhausted, warn away, to lie and make it one that was earnest.

 _He never told me a name, but it was a voice. I can not control my body –can not give it direction. Can you help me_? She asked in turn, torn between pleading and begging.

 _ **He is Galbatorix, he fancies himself King of this, the Empire. I can not help you little one. I am sorry.** _ Katrina felt his sorrow – it was like her own. Her body caught its breath, seemed almost to sob. She worked to calm herself– she found that, torn from her body, she could use her emotions, manipulate them. Her body could not afford to be a slobbering blubbery mess. She could not afford that. She did not even know if the fall had hurt.

 _ **Poor child. He has broken his vows. He has done something horrifyingly cruel to you. Even when we fought the Riders, he and I merely killed – we did nothings like this. This is wrong. This is corruption. I can not heal you, little one, but I can save you. Save us.**_ As Shruikan spoke his will seemed to grow – what had once been in broken tatters rebuilt before her eyes. It was beautiful – awe inspiring. Dragons were not human, and this – that a dragon who had lived all its life in chains, broken and beaten for its use –could rise up, find strength, and decide to cut its ties to forge new ones.

This was something a person took years to find the resolve to do – yet it seemed only to have taken Shruikan moments.

 ** _If I am strong child, it is because I find I am confronted with you – a truth I can not deny and see snuffed out. I will see you safely to your Spine_.** Shruikan promised, and the black dragon rose from his crouch. He was not chained, she saw – in such a place as this, locked in a cave in the belly of the earth – what need was there for chains?

For the first time she found she had time to wonder where she was.

 _ **You are in the four peaked mountains of Helgrind. The Gates of Death. The Ra'zac long built a tower here – they are fed by the populace who believe them to be the mountains messengers. You are in their tower – beneath the rock of Kuthian, the entrance – in the belly of the tower, called the Vault of Souls.**_ Shruikan explained as Katrina looked about the "Vault of Souls" – it was a dungeon, likely were people were taken to die.

 ** _Those who die here die in such a manner that they feed power to those who can take it_.** Shruikan explained, and Katrina felt fear twist in her belly. Galbatorix had intended to take her power – though how she did not understand.

 ** _Will we die?_ ** She found the strength to ask, though she feared the answer.

 _ **No. I intend for us to be free**._ Shruikan answered coming closer to her, he hovered her fallen from, all she could see of him were the wide scales, hard looking – stronger then diamond. She was sure he would be safe if the whole mountain fell on him.

 _ **The scales are magic that grow as strong as the egg we were hatched from, when we gain that strength back – we gain an ability so rarely used for our Riders used to fear it so.**_ Shruikan explained sensing her curiosity.

 _ **Some in the far south called it "Divine Wind" – I will show it to you**_. Shruikan told her, and when she remained silent, he inhaled – skin between the scales she had not noticed before expanded – stretching – tightening.

It seem he strained for a moment – to hold in the air he had inside, then with a wet roar – that shook the walls, the earth trembling beneath her. The wind – for it could be nothing else seemed to fill the cavern. It tugged wildly at her – and Shruikan kept his wings tight to his body. Before she could fear what would happen, Shruikan snatched her up from the ground, his long neck twisting as he kept his head low. She was within his jaws – her heart beat wildly – was he going to kill her? Eat her, even as he said he'd help her escape.

 _ **Calm. This is the only way to protect you**._ To give Katrina credit, she tried to remain calm – it was important she not use up the air, even though Shruikan had nose holes she could not imagine it would be easy breathing in the wild wind he had stirred up.

Then she heard something that would wake her screaming in the night for the rest of her life. It was a low sound – but it sent an ache to the very marrow of her bones to hear it. It was the sound of the great peaks above them crashing down. She felt she had to get out – but she could not think to tell Shruikan that. Katrina was never sure how they got out, only the stale air in the dragons mouth, the sound of earth groaning as it broke and great chunks fell.

 _ **We are free.**_ Shruikan told her at long last, and she saw with his eyes the world passing below them, the great dragons shadow a mere swiftly passing speck far below. She stuttered away the thought of how far up she was – for surely Shruikan was an expert in this, flying was what a dragon was born knowing. At least it was that way with Spine.

 _Where are we going?_ She found herself asking him, mental voice whisper soft.

 _ **To Roran – to Spine, to the Varden.** _ He answered just as soft, she sensed he did not want her to fear him as she first had.

 _And after that?_ Katrina waited for his answer, and thought for a moment he would not say what he intended.

 _ **In search of my true Rider.**_ It was a confident tone, though one unsure and in pain at the thought of being wrong to seek what had been denied all his life.

 _What of Galbatorix?_ Katrina asked carefully not looking up at the teeth that could descend and kill her.

 ** _He cut his tie to me when Helgrind fell. I think he thinks me dead. He is as good as_.** The rest of the flight was spent in silence, though a bond of survival, and of the friendship forged in that survival hummed between Katrina and Shruikan, though it was not the bond of Rider and Dragon, it was something they found they were content with.

 _I will go with you, Shruikan, when you go in search for your Rider, Spine and I will follow._ Katrina whispered to him, and sensed through his surprise his welcome at the thought of company. Within a dragon's maw, Katrina smiled –for she knew, even dragon's needed friends.


	9. Indissoluble…

" _We then must find your dragon." Angela raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips twitching in a frown._

" _And how do you propose we find something like a dragon?" Angela asked in turn, Solembum's hands were on his hips, he leaned foreword – and standing on tip toe, whispered in her ear._

" _We let it know you want to be found." Elva, for all that she should not have heard him speak, nodded in agreement, her purple eyes far away._

" _All you must do is connect with it once more…" Elva said, and Angela sighed softly, sitting back on the window sill, the dragon having crawled down into her lap, and sat there, looking up at her comfortingly._

" _I…I am afraid…" Angela admitted, and Solembum nodded, walking towards her to lay his hand on the shoulder Spine had vacated._

" _Nothing worth doing is without a little fear – but Elva and I will be here, and nothing will hurt you so long as we are around." Solembum assured, awkwardly patting the witches – no, the Riders, shoulder. Angela's reflection in the window smiled, and Solembum watched as she closed her eyes, trying to reconnect a bond he suspected had been severed by another._

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Night was creeping over the edges of the land, and as Elva turned away from the window, she glanced once more – worriedly – to Angela's still form. Her teacher had been in this trance since Spine had been found out by Solembum. The little dragon shivered in her lap, yawning, sharp little teeth glinting like the metal of a dagger. It was as if he knew she had thought of him. She soothed him, her stomach fluttered; she knew something was going to happen – something that would change things, though she did not know what.

"Solembum, she's been like this for hours, do you not think we should wake her?" Elva asked then, but the wild haired boy only shook his head in a negative.

"I am growing hungry." Elva confessed, and Solembum tensed up glancing to her and the little dragon in her lap. The magic had forced Elva to grow from a babe to a teen in a matter of a year –doing so had caused her to practically need food like she needed air.

"I thought those cravings had ceased." Solembum spoke accusingly; Spine fluttered his wings nervously in response to his tone.

"They have started again – something looms in the future." Elva said, though they both knew as much.

"Can you see _it_ yet?" Werecat asked girl, and Elva shook her head wide purple eyes pleading. Solembum sighed then, giving into her need.

"We are safe enough here, I will fetch something for you in the kitchens – do not leave Angela alone and come fetch me when she wakes. Or have her call for me. Do not eat the dragon." Though the last words were spoken seriously, Elva smiled a little – with a flick of his tail Solembum was gone through the door out of sight.

Elva sighed, running her fingers along the contours of Spine's green scales. She saw Angela's eyes flutter and wondered what the other woman saw.

To begin, Angela closed her eyes slowly withdrawing her awareness of her body as she sought out find the long diminished link between herself and her dragon – then, like a net tossed to sea, she began to search a wider and wider area around her hoping to catch only a trace – a hint – to tell her she had not forgotten her own dragon's death.

Only when she was beginning to loose hope having searched Surda and began along the desert and mountains and elf forest did she find him – Shruikan, coming towards her – and bringing Katrina with him. Her mouth formed his name; her heart singing it as she opened her eyes to see Spine watching her with bright green eyes. His little tail flicked back and forth, and he seemed to know, just by looking at her – that she had found her answer.

Then she noticed that only Elva was present, but it had grown dark…

"Solembum went to fetch some food – I'll send Spine after him. Did you find your dragon, Lady Angela?" The little girl asked then, Spine fluttered his wings in preparation for flight through he paused long enough to hear her answer.

"Yes, I did, Elva…my dragon is… Shruikan, and he is coming here with Katrina." Spine flung himself into the air, gave a little shriek that sounded a bit like a bird's chirp and a meow, circled above them once – as if in thanks - and then sped off to find Solembum.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

" _We need to know, Arya, will you accept the position of Queen?" Maud asked then, a hint of worry entering her tone._

" _I…I have to think about this." There was the soft sound of stone-on-hardened leather as Arya strode quickly out of the kitchens through the garden entrance. Roran felt grateful to her, for not revealing his position – he started to turn back to his rooms when he heard Maud speak again._

" _Come out, child." Roran froze, feeling his stomach twist unpleasantly at the prospect of being caught listening to a conversation he had no right to hear._

" _How did you know?" Roran could have sung with relief hearing Solembum speak._

" _I am not so old to not smell you in the garden." Old Maud answered sharply._

" _I did not imply you were – tell me of the weapon under the Menoa tree." Solembum suggested softly, and Rhunön sighed._

" _As you suspected, Linnëa gave back the dagger she had stolen from my forge – ironic that she used a blade that only in the hands of a Rider, and with the magic of a dragon, may turn into a sword to kill her lover. I refitted it with a jewel that I think matches Saphira's hide very well, Eragon will be pleased – where is he so that I might show him it?" Rhunön asked then, there was a silence – and then Solembum sighed, reluctantly speaking._

" _Eragon left days ago to engage Murtagh in battle over the skies of Surda – they have subsequently gone missing. We suspect…we suspect Galbatorix plotted to use the Dragon Dance to turn Eragon to his side with the aid of the bond now between Saphira and Thorn." At Solembum's speculation, the pit of Roran's stomach felt like stone._

_Not caring if they heard him – he walked away, down the hall, not caring where he was going, so long as he did not have to think of his cousin put in Galbatorix's hands by the betrayal of his own brother._

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Roran found himself in the "holding pen", as Eragon had called it, for Saphira. He didn't really know why he'd come to this particular spot, just that it felt safe. Most of the Varden and those natural born to Surda had kept way from the "pen", and though Saphira had been obliging in acting the part of a wild beast, when she was truly just as intelligent as any man or woman – it had been insulting, but in the end necessary.

Some had come here to gawk, which Saphira had rewarded with "spit balls" of fire. They burnt quickly, and weren't that dangerous – but it earned the young dragon a certain deserved reputation as a fire starter. Eragon had thought it was cute, and no one who knew the young Rider personally had taken him aside to tell him – in the nicest way possible – that she was a huge monster spitting fire. Not that cute.

But it had been allowed for the little time they had been here – Ronan, thinking back on it, didn't think it'd been more then three days after the Battle of the Burning Plains that Thorn and Murtagh had engaged them in a flying version of "follow the leader". Wherever his cousin was, Roran just wished he'd get back to Surda soon, Murtagh or no Murtagh.

There was a noise behind him, shuffling – Roran turned to look raising his hammer ever so slightly to show he was armed.

"Easy lad, I mean you no harm. Saw you hear, thought you might want to talk." Roran recognized the dwarf as the one that Eragon had held in favor; dark eyes looked at Roran who sighed and settled back down, slumping.

"You may call me Orik, and I know you for Roran, cousin of Eragon." The dwarf came forward to sit next to him, for a while there was a tense measuring silence between them – Roran had never seen a dwarf – and did not know how to deal with him.

"What do you want?" Roran asked in a soft tone – for surely there had to be a reason, Arya kept to herself – and even the Urgals who had guarded Eragon in battle kept well away from him. Roran did not see a reason Orik would break the silence, but he had, and now Roran at least wanted to know why. To his surprise, Orik let out a bark of laughter.

"Solembum sent me after you, said we'd be good company for each other, as we've both been moping around like a pair of dogs- I can see his reasoning." Orik stated softly, after the almost baying sounds of his laughter his tone was downright mellow. The laugh, Roran realized, had been false – self mocking.

"You knew Eragon…what…" Roran couldn't get the rest of the words out, though Orik didn't seem to need him to do so.

"This will be the first time he and I have been apart since we've met – I took a real liking to the boy when I met him. Most of the dwarves did – strange, how dwarves and Riders have always gotten along though their ancestral dragons tried to eat us – wild ones still give it a try once in a great while." Orik admitted, and Roran found himself smiling a little.

"What do dwarves do that attracts the dragons so?" Roran found himself asking, though he was still wary of the other.

"Mostly, above land we farm, and below we mine for the shiny bits dragons like so much; used to be good trade for stones when the Riders were still about, and as dwarves sense the stone, we dug whole cities for it." Orik admitted, Roran blinked in shock – as if he could not quite grasp what Orik told him.

"You were alive back then?" Roran finally asked, and Orik laughed – though this time it was real.

"Oh, no – but we tell our stories passed from mouth to mouth as if it were that way. Still have a hard time writing down what we know and seen – bit like humans that way I suppose. Like farming, no books on it – though we all know it." Orik said, and Roran twisted around to see if the dwarf was telling him in jest. He wasn't, Roran swallowed down his nerves.

"Your saying you farm?" Roran asked, voice faint, Orik nodded smiling a bit.

"Oh, aye, we farm." Roran found him self surprised their two peoples shared this trait, though he didn't say that. He wondered if it had been the dwarves who had taught things like farming, and if they had what else had humans learnt from them and forgotten they had?

"You have family then as well?" Roran asked, though he though he knew the answer would be yes.

"Oh, aye – the late King was mine, and you might say Eragon and I –in the reasoning of my people - are brothers, in dwarf terms, I'm also engaged –" Orik fell silent, shaking his head in amusement for Roran stared at him as if finally seeing him.

"I…I am as well, to Katrina… Galbatrorix had her taken, I do not even know if…" Orik hesitantly placed a hand on his back, and Roran let it be, gathering himself up – he had to believe that Eragon would return, and that together they could save Katrina. Galbatrorix would not have taken her just to kill her somewhere else – there had to be a reason, though Roran was at a loss to what it could be.

"If she lives, Roran, cousin of Eragon – you have my word Eragon and I will find a way to fetch her back for you." Orik vowed, and Roran found himself nodding a grim thanks.

"Will that be your first act as King of your people, Orik, saving a human girl?" Melodious notes turned their attention to the black haired elf princess – who Roran know could soon be Queen of her own people, asked.

"Heh, might as well be, how you taking you mothers passing?" Orik asked her with more curtsy then Roran would have thought to use. Arya's eyes softened slightly, it was clear she had a certain distant fondness for the dwarf, just as he knew she had for Eragon.

"It will be a slow healing." Arya admitted, her tone indicating her sorrow.

"I'll prey for you – even if you don't believe, might find some comfort in another hoping for the best for you." Orik stated, and Arya pursed her lips – it was clear that spiritual belief was a sore spot between the two. Roran had a moment to wonder why, and then Arya frowned, puzzled.

"How did you know of my mothers passing?" She asked then, and Orik blinked at her, and then chuckled.

"Solembum. Said as a friend of yours I should know." _Whoever Solembum is_ , Roran thought then, _is spilling secrets and advice_.

"That explains it, Maud – my m-mother's werecat, always made things interesting. It seems Solembum follows her in that aspect, and…Orik, thank you…for your concern." Arya said awkwardly, and Orik smiled only nodding, awkwardly, she stood there – clearly something else troubling her.

"Out with it Arya, it chills me to see you standing like you do, still as a statue." Orik encouraged in his own way.

"I am unsure of my path, and my own people would push me one way – there is no one else that is neutral that I know…" _except Eragon_ …was what she did not say. For a moment Orik looked surprised, and then smiled warmly.

"You're talking about being Queen?" Orik asked, and it occurred to Roran he sat among the future rulers of two peoples wiser then his own. Arya nodded, and Roran realized she was asking –subtly – for Orik's advice to her situation. Orik would be King, soon enough, in his own right. _And Eragon_ , Roran remembered what the dwarf had said, _is considered his brother_.

Not for the first time Roran found himself wondering how Arya felt about Eragon, he knew his cousin clung to a fleeting fancy for the elf, though it might have sprung from the desires of youth rather then a true love. Still, she clearly felt something for him to hold him in such regard and think of his well being. Roran wondered if Arya could be both Queen and Rider, then dismissed the thought, for that would be too much to ask of anyone. Still, Arya thought of Eragon at least as a friend, perhaps – like Orik, she thought of him with the fondness of a sibling. It was as if Roran suddenly found himself in a much larger world then he had thought possible only a year ago.

"I say that there is no reason to not take the throne – you are no longer needed to carry the egg. You are no longer outcast of your people. The thing I think you would most give us is your freedom; but I do not think that when Galbatrorix is gone the elves would be content to live so far from humans and dwarves, I'd like to think there will come a day when the rulers of our three peoples will sit in the same Hall and have a Council of equal parts to guild us." Orik said softly, and Arya tilted her head a faint smile on her lips.

"I did not realize you had such a hope for our future. I think, Orik, I shall become Queen with that bright future to strive for." Orik flushed at her praise, but Roran thought he well deserved it. It would be something to fight for.

 _Was it like that before_? Roran wondered then, _did the Riders cause our three races to come apart, and then remain that way because of Galbatrorix_? It was a question Roran wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to.

"Indeed, and if anyone can produce such a future it is the three rulers I see in front of me." Solembum's voice rang out then, and the three turned to see him – Roran and the other two saw quickly the tiny green dragon that draped itself over his shoulders.

"I am no ruler." Roran stated softly, and Solembum's eyes met his - white fangs flashing in a smile.

"Yes, you are. If not because of your blood, then because of what you've done – taken an entire village over mountains and ocean from north to south. Such has not been done since the days of Old. The Empire will see that, but that is not important. I have other news – your lady-bride-to-be is Rider of this little green, called Spine." A flash of teeth showed his amusement.

"You have news of her? How is she – how did she -?" Roran paused when Orik glanced to him, amusement in his bold eyes.

"She is alive. Galbatrorix, according to the black dragon Shruikan, is no more a threat. Shruikan carries her in his maw to us even as we speak. We have his word, through his new-found Rider in truth, Angela, that he will not swallow her. Though the link between mind and body was severed by Galbatrorix – Angela is sure she can mend such a wound." Solembum told them, seemingly quite amused at how it was all working out.

Roran, still trying to wrap his mind all that was happening, could not speak. Orik gave him a look of fleeting pity, knowing that Roran could do nothing but wait, and then tensed when Arya spoke a question he had dared not.

"And Eragon." It was a demand, not a question, and Solembum quickly soothed the shivering Spine (for she had put magic behind her words) who blinked wide eyes at the suddenly shamed looking elf.

"Likely, he and Murtagh not long take long past noon to get here." With that news delivered, Solembum left the way only cats could.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Murtagh," Eragon stated softly, nudging the elder with a finger, "come now, it's time to get up – we've slept and lazed about long enough. Saphira is starting to worry Thorn with the fact we haven't eaten. I've already had to reassure her we aren't lost." If Eragon's tone had a bit of a whine in it, Murtagh knew better then to comment on it.

"I _know_." Came the low drawl, and dark eyes flashed up to meet Eragon's own.

"I was trying to make sure…" Murtagh didn't finish his words and Eragon only stood there looking understanding. Murtagh sighed – he didn't want to say that he was afraid that somehow these ancient walls protected him. That it hadn't been the bond that, once he left – he'd have to crawl beneath Galbatrorix's shadow once more. There were no words for that fear – yet both of them knew it had to be faced.

So, in the end, Murtragh followed Eragon out of the ancient Rider city. Somehow their eyesight had gotten better – perhaps an effect of being a Rider – for they did not take torches or light to get out of the city.

They came to a chamber that opened, for daylight spilled into it, curious – for they had not noticed it before – and maybe a bit worried they were lost and would have to call their dragons to fetch them out of the "hole" in the city, the two went to investigate.

What they found was daylight – and a floating crystal. Eragon considered the spectacle with a tilted head.

"This island must be Eoam, Oromis told me of the wild magic that worked here." Eragon murmured seemingly fascinated by the jewel. Besides the small fact that a rock the height of a man was floating, Murtagh wasn't too impressed. When he looked again to Eragon, he began to worry, a slightly dazed expression – as if he were looking, searching, seeing something else was on his brother's face.

"Eragon, what are you doing?" Murtagh demanded, he had already stretched his mind out preparing to call out to their dragons if the other answered in babble.

"Scrying. Looking in on Oromis – the Varden, Katrina…" Eragon's breath caught in his throat, and Murtagh knew something was wrong.

"Eragon, what is it?" Murtagh demanded and as Eragon answered, a part of his mind had already called for Thorn and Saphira to come fetch them.

"Oromis – my teacher and the last of the original Riders is dead…that must mean Glaedr is as well. Oh, god – Islanzadí, and Vanir…but… Maud and Rhunön are alright…for now so is Katrina. Angela is with the green dragon – that must mean it's hatched. I'll have to ask her how she got the egg…We've got to get to Surda, Murtagh. Right now." Eragon's voice had grown tensed – strained with pain.

"Why – what, Eragon, what's wrong?" Murtagh demanded, holding his brothers shoulders and shaking him out of the dazed trance.

"Galbatrorix's black dragon, Shruikan, is flying over Surda." Eragon explained shakily, pale with the knowledge that his friends and people were in danger and he could do nothing to stop it…

There was nothing he could say to make this better and he was all to glad to feel Thorn grip him with his claws holding him close to his chest like something precious. The two dragons dropped them and landed so they could mount – they did so silently, it stained at Murtagh, no matter how he wished it otherwise. Saphira was the last dragon female, she would need to mate with other dragons then Thorn, and now that they know there would be other dragons he wondered if their…relationship, could last…

Apparently his thoughts were no longer his own anymore for Saphira glanced to him, and there was knowledge in her eyes of what he worried over. Eragon tensed as she spoke to him.

 _Murtagh_? Came Eragon's mental voice, _Thorn says you worry over…us, but he won't tell me why._

 _Isn't it obvious, Eragon, Saphira and Thorn can not passably mate with just one dragon to revive their species, the others_ …Murtagh could not finish the thought, refused to.

 _ **Leave bringing back the dragons to us, Murtagh, it does not change the bond you and Eragon have – does not change the bond Saphira and I share.**_ Thorn pushed into his thoughts and Murtagh patted him warmly, feeling a warmer connection to his dragon then he had had since it had hatched.

 _Thorn_ …Murtagh thought, wondering how to thank the dragon as he settled into the saddle of the harness, he watched as Eragon tightened the loops around his legs which circled Saphira's belly and kept him in place while aloft. As one both dragons leapt into the air, beating their wings, the wind taking them higher and toward land.

 _ **Do not be an idiot Rider-mine, just because you and Eragon wish to remain monogamous with each other does not mean I expect Saphira to do the same for me. Worry not though; our first clutch will keep us…"fond" of one another**_. Murtagh thought that Thorn was being truthful, and let it rest in his mind. The rest of the flight was spent with a tense sadness that was more intense then their arrival, though he remembered with a certain fondness the sight of Thorn's and Saphira's shadows dancing a game of tag across the ocean surface.


	10. Decadal

Roran had never been more relieved to see a dragon then when a black smear appeared on the horizon. Spine, curled around his shoulders, seemed to share in his joy and chirped excitedly. Tiny claws dug into his shoulder, tearing at his leather armor, and he had to squash the reflex to swipe at the little green dragon. He held his breath, keeping himself outwardly calm though inwardly he raged like a storm to see that Shruikan was landing alone – without Katrina in sight.

For a moment he felt fear – what if they had been betrayed? Angela was a witch, and they were not known for their loyalties. Could Eragon's death have pushed her to join Galbatorix? Roran swallowed, glancing to Angela and Solembum. The werecat had said that Eragon was on his way back – but would arrive after Shruikan. He wondered for a moment if they had left themselves open for a attack – even without a dragon, Roran had no doubt that Shruikan could do more damage to them then an army they saw coming.

As if he sensed Roran's thoughts, Spine nipped his ear, hard – Roran cursed; pausing to touch the abused ear lobe- he felt the drop of blood, even as Shruikan settled onto the courtyard. From a great height above them, he surveyed the crowd that greeted him, and then lowered his head to near Angela. Large jaws opened, and Roran froze to see that in the mouth of the black dragon – nestled on its tongue, behind dagger sharp teeth, was Katrina. The tongue lifted and avoided the teeth expertly, depositing Katrina (who was not dead, not bloody – but alive if looking slightly windblown and more then a little…slimy) up the ground at Angela's feet.

Angela paid no mind to the impossible, kneeling beside Katrina to touch her – Roran saw with alarm that she was still as a doll.

"Katrina…?" He stepped toward her hesitantly – but Spine had no such reservations, letting out a joyful little coo and flinging himself into the air to land on the ground between Katrina and Shruikan. The little green dragon gave the much larger black dragon a hiss, as if to thank and threaten the large dragon all at once. Whatever was said amused Shruikan, and the wide black eye gleamed as it caught sight of Roran.

 _ **Fear for her not, my Rider will see her healed**_. Shruikan assured him, tongue flicking out as he glanced to Angela. Roran understood then, the reason Solembum had been sure Shruikan would bring no harm to them in revenge to Galbatorix. Angela was Shruikan's Rider.

"What happened to her?" Roran found himself asking, ignoring the absurdity that he was asking that of a dragon who had been his enemy only a week ago.

 _ **She has suffered. Galbatorix saw her mind and body severed. Her body obeys orders, while her mind is trapped. She will recover**_ _ **.**_ Shruikan explained to him, his wings fluttered creating a gust of wind that threatened to fall them. His nostrils inhaled, his eyes narrowing as he turned his attention to the sky.

Roran saw then – a blur of blue and red, Eragon and Murtagh were early.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

There was something about flying that Eragon found relaxing – no matter the fact that they were flying to go to battle Shruikan, a dragon much older then their own two; while Eragon had not seen Galbatorix, he did not doubt that somehow, he was near at hand.

 _There_ , Murtagh told him with a thought, and when Eragon looked to him he saw the elder pointed to ground – to the black smear surrounded by earth that was the courtyard of the Varden's base. Eragon could not be sure from this distance but he thought he saw people near Shruikan.

 _Are they trying to fight him off?_ Eragon wondered, fearing for his friends.

 _ **They are not fighting him**_. Thorn told him, as they circled above, hovering and uncertain. Why wasn't Shruikan flying up to meet them? It was how dragons battled naturally, only forced to the ground when young and uncertain of their wings while burdened with their Riders.

 _Is he holding them hostage somehow_? Murtagh allowed, finding it strange that Galbatorix had not forced Shruikan to act upon seeing them? A thought occurred to him – perhaps Galbatorix did not know his ties had been cut? Perhaps the king intended to demoralize his enemies by seeing Eragon and Saphira fly away with Shruikan? If that was the case, Murtagh thought with a smirk, Galbatorix was going to get a nasty surprise.

 _ **No. They look perfectly capable of movement**_. Thorn answered so that Saphira and Eragon could hear him.

 _Magic_? Eragon thought to the red dragon. Thorn's nostrils flared, as if scenting for something they could not.

 _ **No trace of it**_. Thorn assured, and Eragon stilled, looking at the red dragon with wide eyes.

 _You can_ smell _magic_? He asked incredulously, Thorn snorted, amused.

 _ **All male dragons can.**_ _ **It is how we scent a female ready for the Dance**_. Thorn explained, but a terrible thought had occurred to Murtagh. Galbatorix had said he wanted Thorn to mate with Saphira, but could he have sensed the ties broken between them and instead of killing Murtagh send Shruikan to mate with Saphira to break Murtagh and Thorn?

 _Could he be here to mate with Saphira_? He thought, sensing Thorn hiss hide shuddering at the mere suggestion. Before Thorn could do or say anything regretful, Saphira interrupted.

 _ **Katrina is down there**_. The blue dragon announced with calm, certain in her sight. Thorn and Murtagh knew of the girl only by Eragon who had told them of Roran who wished to rescue his bride-to-be fromGalbatorix. Murtagh was quick to tell him he had heard nothing of her capture, and Thorn had reminded both Riders that Murtagh may be a servant of Galbatorix, but he was not privy to the secrets of the other Rider. If Galbatorix wanted the girls capture kept quiet, he would keep Murtagh ignorant.

Eragon reached with his magic, his sight mimicking Saphira's own; he saw then that she was right – Katrina was there, Roran and Angela beside her, as were Orik and Arya, and Elva and Solembum. None of them looked like they intended to fight Shruikan.

 _ **I don't believe we are in danger. I will try to speak with him**_. Saphira stated, and they felt when her mind reached to touch Shruikan's in an invitation. Thorn snapped at the air in frustration, Murtagh tensed atop him – Murtagh glimpsed his brother's face, and saw it was a pale, milky, shade.

 _ **Shruikan, it is Saphira, whose Rider is Eragon who calls; answer – why do you linger here**_? Saphira demanded in a way that was both reckless and formal. To their surprise, Shruikan's answer held as much power in it as was needed, no more then that. He was not trying to overwhelm them with his magic.

 _ **I have found my true Rider. I do not intend to leave; I will do you no harm**_. Shruikan told them, then, as if in after thought, he said. _**My ties to Galbatorix are no more. He is as good as dead.**_

 _B-but,_ _Galbatorix was the most powerful of us_. Murtagh spoke to the black dragon, feeling foolish to have opened his mind in such a way to what he considered the enemy – but unable to help himself in his shock.

 _ **He was only powerful because of me. He was dying, a parasite to me – taking my power and wielding it as his own. I am free of him. I give my word, as Shruikan, whose Rider is Angela – I will not harm you on Galbatorix's behalf**_ _._ Shruikan assured them, as if to prove he was as good as his word he let his wings fold to his sides, if they darned strike – they knew he could not defend himself in time. For his boldness his wings might be ruined, and his hide burnt before he could save himself.

 _Angela_ …Eragon thought to her, hoping she would answer.

 _What is it Eragon? I am quite busy_. Came the hurried, if tense, answer.

 _Shruikan is claiming you as Rider. Is he telling us the truth?_ Eragon asked in a rush, letting Thorn and Murtagh hear his mental conversation with her.

 _Yes. Now either land or fly away, but stop asking silly questions. By the way, it's not polite to not inform me if others are listening to our conversations_. With that Angel's mind was shut to him, as if they did not share the connection of being Riders.

Properly reprimanded, Eragon and Murtagh shared a glance, and felt their dragons decide to land as they lurched down, diving, only to fling their wings open and catch themselves before hopping from air to ground. It might have been amusing any other time, but Eragon and Murtagh were suddenly right in front of Shruikan – and very aware that what had once appeared to be small while in flight was taller then Thorn and Saphira combined.

In other words, if seeing two stony black eyes as big as they stood tall was an impression that would stick – there was no getting used to it.

A demanding chirp caught their attention and brought it to the ground – they saw a green dragon that might (if it were lucky) be as big as a cat, perched on the shoulder of Katrina. Saphira blinked, lids slowly closing over stunned blue eyes as she took in the sight, and it seemed to take insult by hissing. Thorn snickered.

 _Katrina's a Rider_. Eragon noted absently- dazed that there were suddenly two other Riders in the world – and both we're female, for a fleeting moment he wondered what the green dragons name was – and it's gender.

 _Yes, Eragon, I am a Rider. You can stop acting so stunned, honestly, your manners are worse then when I saw you last. His name is Spine, isn't he darling_? Katrina's "voice" came though her lips had not moved, and she showed no outward sign of seeing them – or acknowledging them.

 _What is wrong with you_? Murtagh demanded, for Eragon seemed unable to form a mental response, the only emotional response Murtagh gained from their link was "confusion" and "stunned stupid surprise".

 _It is Galbatorix's doing, I am afraid – Angela has assured me though that it is…healable_. Katrina explained, the young man who Murtagh remembered as Roran from the Battle of the Burning Plains, Eragon's… _his_ cousin, hovered over Katrina protectively.

Angela then did _something_ with magic that made Thorn uneasy, Shruikan flicked his tail tip, and Spine screeched a rebuttal. Katrina's foot jerked, and neither large male dragon mentioned their discomfort, as they seemed to deem it necessary, to see a Rider healed – they knew how they would feel if their Riders were crippled.

"There – much better, I'm sure, but I've started the process of healing – only you can see it finished Katrina. Brave girl, Roran, do help her to your rooms would you? I will speak for you and her with King Orrin. Who, by the way, has asked to speak with you four and Shruikan and I. Spine may come with us, as Katrina's eyes and ears, to ensure I do not misspeak for her." Angela told them all at once, there was nothing Roran could do but obey, helping Katrina to stand; Arya moved, tucking Katrina's arm over her shoulders, to see her balanced, slowly they supported Katrina in walking. No one spoke of the silent tears that escaped.

Spine, still curled about her shoulders, cooed a farewell and licked cheek and tear, and Elva found herself with an armful of dragonet.

"And what of Elva and I?" Solembum asked with a smile only Angela could meet.

"You will come with us, of course – and Orik as well, if he so desires." Angela answered easily; Shruikan glanced at the horse-tall entrance, and snorted to gain Angela's attention.

 _ **King Orrin will have to come out to meet me. I cannot possibly fit within these walls**_. Shruikan stated, driving home his point when he leant down his snout hardly fitting within the entrance.

Elva giggled, amused at the thought of the most feared black dragon getting his nose stuck in a building. Shruikan regarded her with a mellow snort.

 _ **For that child, you can go collect the King**_. Shruikan purred, and Elva flushed, and then stomped off to do as Shruikan had asked – as she saw she'd get no help against him with Angela and Solembum. When King Orrin appeared, Nasuada and Trianna followed after with a sulking Elva.

If King Orrin was surprised at the sight of three dragons, he said nothing of it, instead he addressed Shruikan directly.

"Although you bring grand news that Galbatorix has been defeated, you also present a issue I had not thought to face in my life time – what to do with the Dragons and their Riders, as things can not – will not – go back to how they once were. I fear one Rider war has marred the people's vision of how things were in days of old. Instead I think I shall purpose a return to the way things were before Dragon Riders – with the four races counseling one another, though each would have their own Rulers. What say you Orik, son ofThrifk and Heir of Hrothgar, dwarf King?" King Orrin asked then, glancing between Orik and Arya.

"Aye, I think it might be worth something to pursue." Orik allowed, though he looked to Eragon, his intention clear in supporting the Rider.

"And you, Arya Dröttningu?" Orrin asked then, his attention on the elf princess.

"I will seek the council of my people before making such a bold decision, as I expect Orik will, but before I do, what do you intend for Eragon, Murtagh, Angela, and Katrina?" Arya asked, glancing only once to Eragon. It was enough to remind Murtagh of the fondness Eragon had shown Arya – and become wary.

"Ah, that is answered easily. I will send bards and heralds into every corner of the Empire. I will, as the last King, and of the royal blood within the Empire, assign my chosen Stewards to rule there. Nasuada has agreed to marry me- to my pleasure, and Surda will be undoubtedly pleased to have her Varden as her protectors – as they are regarded as heroes here, I do not see a reason the Varden will split from us. Trianna and Jörmundur have assured me they do not intend to leave Nasuada's side – and soon, they tell me, Galbatorix's assassins will be taken care of for they will be as dangerous as a scorpion without its stinger without his leadership." Orrin told them, and Nasuada nodded, smiling, when they glanced to her.

"All that remains is the identity of my Stewards, Roran of Carvahall, who led his people here, thus proving his ability to lead – and the blood of Carvahall is of kings. Katrina, as his future wife, and a spokeswoman for the Dragons and Riders – I think would be a good match as my second Steward." Orrin mused, glancing to Spine who tilted his head at the king and then nodded in curt agreement.

"It seems Katrina has no qualms with your meddling." Angela mused softly, measuring Orrin, who shrugged, smiling.

"What will _we_ do in your new world?" Angela murmured, and Shruikan responded to her tone by raising his wings threateningly.

"You may do what you wish, within the bounds set by the Council. The ancestral home of the Dragon Riders – the islands and Hadarac Desert, are of course, yours with free reign. I am sure you will be welcome in Du Weldenvarden and Beor Mountains." Orrin assured tone soft and agreeing. Eragon relaxed his tensed jaw, and Murtagh looked to Solembum who had rolled his eyes after hearing Orrin's words.

"We are in agreement. We will, to ensure a safe beginning to this Council, accompany Katrina and Roran to Urû'baen." Eragon stated when Angela and Murtagh glanced to him for his opinion.

"I expected no less." Orrin assured, his gaze lingered on Murtagh and Thorn for a moment – and Eragon wondered what he made of the situation. He had not been told that Murtagh was his brother, though he probably knew of the Dance through spies.

When Orrin, Nasuada and Trianna left, Eragon turned to Elva, who stared up at him the purple in her eyes accusing, the sliver mark of a dragon rider – the gedwey ignasia, bold against the pale skin of her brow.

"I think I know what will…release me from this curse you _blessed_ me with. Before this, I did not know females may become dragon riders – but Angela is one; as is Katrina – I think Saphira marked me as a Rider because that is what I will be, and when the _blessed_ curse will end. So, you'd best take care of Saphira – she's likely pregnant." Elva's announcement was met by an amused Angela, and a pale Eragon and Murtagh. Pale, likely, because both had heard tales of expecting mothers – they wondered, likely, what being mentally joined with a expecting dragon mother would be like.

"Angela, 'bout how long do you think it will take Katrina to heal?" Eragon asked then, as he glanced to Arya and Orik, something passing in his eyes.

"Four months, at the longest." Angela assured, seeming to follow Eragon's logic.

"Elva, will you and Solembum stay and protect Katrina and Roran?" Eragon asked them, seeing Angela expecting them to give him an answer, both nodded.

"What will you be doing in the meantime?" Solembum asked in turn.

"Murtagh and I will need to bring Orik to the Beor Mountains. After, we will need to take Arya to Du Weldenvarden." Eragon answered softly, knowing the dwarves could not be avoided because Murtagh had killed their king. To ignore what was owed would be a great insult, and Eragon knew as an adopted son of the late king, he had a duty to bring Murtagh to them. That did not mean he intended to let them kill his brother.

"Rhunön and Maud will stay here, as the avatars of the elves." Arya stated softly, and Eragon looked surprised, for he had not known the two were here; though he had known of the Queen's death he had not thought Arya would know yet – though it was a relief to know he did not have to be the one to tell her.

"Aye, and my people will likely stay here, while I go to the Beor Mountains." Orik added, as it was agreed all that remained was to gather supplies for the journey.

"I will come with you, incase the dwarves decide to make trouble." Angela announced suddenly, Solembum narrowed his eyes – not liking that he had given his word to stay and could not follow her; instead he turned to Shruikan.

"Take care of her, or I will see you dead." The werecat hissed, Shruikan nodded, fairly solemn despite being threatened by something that he might consider the size of prey.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

It was not long before Angela set off on Shruikan – and Eragon with Orik on Saphira; and Murtagh with Arya on Thorn. Shruikan carried the burden of the baggage, but it did not seem to hinder their flight over the Hadarac Desert.

The flight took from sunrise to sunset – and their conversations were interesting to say the least.

 _Shruikan_ , Angela began timidly – for though she had been bonded to the dragon most of her life, and when without him the companion of a werecat - it was a tie cut and unacknowledged. She had only seen him returned to her for a day.

This was her first time actually speaking to him, for she had been too in awe and– and, exhausted by the end of the day to dare an attempt. But that was making an excuse, the truth, she supposed, was that she did not know if the bond would still function between them; if it was broken in truth.

It was a fear, that though they were Dragon and Rider – they would be unable to speak mind to mind. That would be worse then a half life, to have the possibility of a bond so close, and be denied it.

 _ **Yes, dear one**_? Shruikan's mind-voice was gentle, soothing – his patience lacing it. Her relief was a palpable feeling, welling up within her, she felt tears well up and choked them back; in relief she patted Shruikan with the gedwey ignasia bare handed, it sent a hum of reassurance along her spine.

 _Thank you_. Angela did not know if she thanked Shruikan, or some greater power, but the warmth that she had reveled in faded, leaving questions.

 _What is…what was our history before Galbatorix_? Angela asked, hoping his memories would stir her own.

 _ **As an egg, I was born of wild dragons. You found my egg in a cove near your home. You marched with my egg to the Rider's sanctuary, my egg tucked beneath your arm. You told them that they would do better not to loose precious dragon eggs. You showed them my egg – I have never known such boldness, before or sense. They did not think I would hatch – but you heard them planning to leave me in the wilderness and stole me from them; I hatched for you then. You skipped to the Riders and demanded to be taught, they agreed – for you had to be trained though they did not plan to let you be Rider in truth because of your gender. I have no doubt that if things had not escalated you and I would have proven them wrong. Instead, Galbatorix saw you – a girl – with a dragon; he stole me from you – but not before making me watch as you were striped of memories and deadened to our bond. The only thing that has kept me alive all these years is that I knew you to be alive, and I would not kill you to be free of him**_. Shruikan told her, his "voice" a forced hissing-whisper at the end. Angela sensed for a moment that what the black dragon told her was truth – as if to echo his tale she smelt sea water, felt the joy of his hatching, and her fear at being alone that she had never understood until then.

 _I…I am sorry I let him force me to forget_. Angela murmured, not looking at anything but his glinting black hide as they passed under clouds, over them, all under the sun. She still loved flying, though she did not think she deserved to feel such when her dragon had been in pain all her life and she had remained ignorant.

 _ **No – do not blame yourself. I should have protected you better, as was my duty by ancient pact. In any case, the fault of this lies with Galbatorix.**_ Shruikan told her firmly, though gently.

 _ **You have questions of**_ _ **Saphira and Thorn. Ask them, as I sense them within your heart**_. Shruikan stated then, in effort to change the subject.

 _Yes. Firstly, when will_ _Saphira_ _begin to make a nest for her eggs_? Angela asked then, finding it comforting to ask questions rather then dwell on the past.

 _ **Four months**_. Shruikan assured her, and she fell to silence watching as Thorn andSaphira flew ahead of them, dancing about in the sky as if playing. Seemingly unaware of the time they were allotted. Four months it would take Katrina to heal – hopefully their visit to that dwarves would take half that. Then there would be a journey to Du Weldenvarden, which would likely be the best place to have the eggs laid; the elves would be pleased that the second generation came so soon after the crowning of a new Queen.

If Elva were right one of the eggs in the clutch Saphira bore would likely be hers, between those journeys Angela would have to go back and fetch Elva. With a newly hatched dragon they would fly to Surda and take a month to journey to Urû'baen, likely Spine would learn breath flame a month after.

Then they would find out if Thorn or Shruikan would fly Saphira. Angela did not know what effect – if any – would take hold of Murtagh and Eragon if Shruikan flew with Saphira. Or perhaps even Spine, for, by then – he would be of age.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Orik gripped Eragon's belt, disliking the sight of the high drop between dragon and ground.

"Orik, I must ask you – I know I swore I would kill the Rider who killed Hrothgar; can you…" Eragon could not finish his words, Orik meant much to him – but between dwarf and Murtagh, he knew there was no choice to which side he would go to.

"I forgive you. I shall not speak of your promise, fear not for I will not hunt for Murtagh's life – though my people will still demand a price for his death." Orik murmured softly.

 _ **Ask if the return of the**_ _ **Isidar Mithrim – the star sapphire – may quell their anger**_? Saphira then told Eragon to ask, he echoed her, and when Orik was silent for a time began to fear the answer.

"It might, Eragon, but not in whole; I will do my best to act in your interest, but you must know that it will take more then that." Orik murmured sadly, and Eragon nodded his eyes glanced to Murtagh and Thorn, who carried Arya.

"Thank you, Orik, whatever may come, know that I have always counted you as a friend." Eragon murmured, looking to the desert bellow – he saw the Beor Mountains rising in the distance.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Murtagh was not entirely comfortable at having Arya at his back, though there was little he could do – he spent most of the journey tensed, hoping she would not find her tongue. To his dismay – she did.

"The dwarves will seek vengeance against you, for the slaying of Hrothgar." It was a fact, but Murtagh's shoulders tensed in reaction.

"I know." Murtagh stated shortly, hoping his tone would encourage her to drop the subject – he had no such luck though.

"What you do not know is that Eragon is considered a citizen of the elves – he is higher in power then even the Queen – I – am. I see it is my duty to protect him. By bonding yourself to him, my protection _reluctantly_ extends to you. If they demand your death, they demand the death of the only female dragon – my people will go to war with the dwarves to protect Eragon and Saphira, to protect you – though it is their right to demand life for life. I hope you understand the position you have put me." Arya snarled, and Murtagh wondered if the elf could kill him and somehow protect Eragon from dying.

"Indeed." Murtagh stated curtly – for he had been raised in court, and understood its politics.

"Then do Eragon a favor – do as they will, do not make defending you any harder for us. Your mind has been peeled byGalbatorix. Let them see into your mind, any damage done by the dwarves and Galbatorix will be healed by the elves, least Eragon suffer. Do you understand?" Arya stated coldly, and Murtagh nodded.

"I do." He swore.

"Good." Arya did not speak again, and Murtagh found he was grateful.

 _ **I like her**_. Thorn announced as they landed in front of one of the entrances to a dwarf city.

 _You would_. Murtagh grumbled fondly as he dismounted and helped Arya do the same. Just because she hated his guts was no reason to make things worse for him self in her eyes by being rude.

"Murtagh – you live!" One of the dwarfs exclaimed, it was then that Murtagh remembered, he had left a hero – they had thought him dead. He felt sickened, soul wounded afresh in the face of his utter betrayal of a people who he had fought beside. Whose king he had senselessly partly blamed for his capture, Orik stepped foreword and the people read the dire news on his features.

"Summon the twelve chiefs of our clans, it is not pleasant news we will burden you with." Orik told them, the crowd parted to do as he had asked. That night they waited as Orik went among the chiefs in a chamber they could not – by dwarf law – enter.


End file.
